


Building Our World

by beejohnlocked



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Background aaric, Daryl doesn't do this, Eric is alive after aow, M/M, and I'm sure there will be a gleggie mention, and everyone knows it, and fluff, background Richonne - Freeform, background carzekiel, background rositara, but he will, maybe minor angst nothing too hard hitting, relationship building, so is shiva, there will be smut, these guys are stupidly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beejohnlocked/pseuds/beejohnlocked
Summary: Daryl makes the decision to make the Hilltop his permanent home. He knows what motivates that decision. Will he be able to spit the words out to Paul?





	1. Leaving Alexandria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl says goodbye to ASZ

"I understand." The disappointment in Rick's voice is palpable, but his eyes convey the truth of his words.

Daryl feels horribly guilty regardless.

"It's just...I never really fit in here," he says, gesturing at the suburban landscape surrounding them. "I tried, but it...it just ain't-"

Rick lays a quieting hand on Daryl's shoulder. "Look, I get it. I _do_. I know you've been hoping for something more permanent since the prison." He pauses briefly. "Have you decided where you're going?"

 _Yes_. "Nah. Not yet. But I won't be far. Promise." Daryl looks off to the horizon, hoping Rick doesn't call him on his bluff. "I might travel between communities for awhile. Maybe do some longer range runnin'."

That, at least, isn't a lie. Daryl knows where he wants to be and where he's going to end up. He knows where he _belongs_. He has for a while. But they're rebuilding an entire world, and there's still so much to do. He just hopes that when he does travel, he will have a certain companion with him. It's possible that might take some convincing. Or it might not. He has no idea, really.

Deciding to move permanently to the Hilltop wasn't a snap decision on Daryl's part, but thus far he hasn't spoken to Maggie or...anyone else about it. He'd been staying in Alexandria during the war against Negan, traveling from there to the Kingdom to the Hilltop and back, checking in with the people, seeing what everyone needed for food and other supplies, and delivering what he was able to. He never stayed in one place more than a few days, convincing himself he preferred to be on the road. To be free.

 _Liar_ , a little voice inside would always taunt him. Might've been Merle's. Might've been his own. Either way, Daryl knew where he was being pulled to. It was as undeniable as gravity itself. He knew what, or better _who_ was on his mind night after night, invading his thoughts and making sleep damn near impossible. He knew who he thought about during the long hours on the bike, wind whipping through his no-longer-filthy hair. He knew why he kept himself clean and relatively groomed now. He knew the face and voice and body that came to mind when he wrapped a hand around himself and bit back his moans, unable to stop, not wanting to, that name, _his_ name on Daryl's lips and in his mind and heart and helplessly given voice to every time he came. The one who popped, uninvited, into his mind the moment he awoke, alive and unharmed, day after day.

Daryl knew.

And earlier today he had decided it had been long enough. He packed the few belongings he had, readied up his bike, and walked around town to say his goodbyes, which he thought was stupid anyway.

 _It's not like I'm gonna be that far away. It's not like I'm never gonna see any of them. Besides, I've got family at Hilltop too. And the Kingdom. We're all spaced out. No big deal_.

But when he had attempted his first goodbye, Aaron and Eric's eyes had simultaneously filled with tears and Daryl immediately broke down into sobs. They'd always been so kind to him, so welcoming, and now he was leaving. Moving away to chase after a fucking _man_. He felt pathetic and embarrassed, even though they had no idea where he was going or why.

He had said nothing, just let the them both pull him into a group embrace and pat his back and wish him well, all while blubbering "thank yous" like a useless idiot.

And if he wasn't mistaken, there were definite knowing looks exchanged between the two of them, but they didn't voice their thoughts, though they seemed obvious to Daryl. Or maybe he was just projecting. _Either way, damn these perfect couples and their telepathic conversations_. He had a feeling Rick and Michonne would be the same once he got to them.

Tara and Rosita had been next, and although Daryl had never fully gotten past his guilt over Denise's death, he knew Tara never placed any blame on him, and she was fully past it at this point, or as past it as she could ever be. In fact, if the two women in front of him had been pretty close friends _before_ Rosita was shot by the Saviors, at this point they were essentially joined at the hip. Daryl wasn't even certain as to the exact nature of their relationship anymore, especially when he'd watch them smile at each other or when Tara would lay her hand over Rosita's (which, admittedly, had been happening an awful lot lately). But they seemed so happy.

Daryl's gut always clenched at the thought of others finding that kind of happiness. It happened with Tara and Rosita just like it did with Rick and Michonne or Aaron and Eric or Carol and Ezekiel. And that of course made him feel guilty all over again. He didn't resent other survivors for finding something to hold onto. It's just something he never realized he really wanted until recently. And now that he did, he wanted it badly.

"Where will you go?" Rosita asked.

"Ain't decided yet. It's all up in the air. Y'know."

Tara began to laugh in that dry way of hers. Daryl thought that if anyone could bring levity to a post-apocalyptic undead world, it was Tara Chambler. She never lost her sense of humor. But then he realized the humor was directed toward _him_.

"Bullshit!" she exclaimed between chuckles.

Rosita shushed her. "We don't know what Daryl is thinking," she said softly.

Tara side-eyed her. "Are you kidding me? Were you not just saying the other night that-"

Rosita's hand over Tara's mouth silenced her for a moment. _I should try that with Paul sometime, anything to shut that little shit up_ , Daryl thought, and then immediately turned red as his thoughts went places. Again. For about the twentieth time that very day. That damn mouth and those damn eyes and his stupid sweetness. The kind to kick your ass and patch your wounds at the same time and you'd thank him with the utmost of gratitude. At least, everyone at Hilltop seemed to. They all loved Paul. Not that he could blame them. The asshole certainly was lovable. _Dammit_!

Rosita cleared her throat, tearing Daryl away from his wandering mind. _Thank Jesus. I mean not Jesus. Someone else. Thank Buddha. Fuck Jesus. No, not that either. Fuck's sake_.

It was a small miracle Daryl wasn't voicing his thoughts out loud, but they seemed obvious to the two women in front of him. Unless it was projecting once again. Or maybe gaydar. Daryl felt mildly suicidal over having used the word gaydar, even in his own mind, but he recovered long enough to give Tara and Rosita a distracted hug and kiss to each of their cheeks.

"I'll see you both soon, okay?"

"You should bring Jesus with you next time," Tara smirked and Rosita elbowed her side with a suppressed giggle.

Daryl decided that he hated people. But there was nothing for it. He still had to give farewells to a few more of them.

He caught Michonne and Carl doing target practice with some of the townsfolk. He looked down and scuffed his feet at the ground and mumbled his goodbyes sheepishly. He was ready for more knowing looks or pointed words, but felt almost pleasantly surprised between his sobs that the goodbye was pretty much all hugging and crying, almost no conversation to be had.

But, Daryl noted as he finally left Michonne and Carl and walked toward their and Rick's house, they hadn't seemed surprised. They hadn't seemed surprised at all.

He had known there was something off then. Every person in Alexandria who meant something to him had looked at him like they had wanted to say more. Hell, Tara, with her total lack of a filter, _had_ said more. But it is only now, thinking back to his other goodbyes that Daryl realizes how obvious he must be.

Rick interrupts his inner monologuing.

Daryl comes back to himself. "Huh?"

Rick gives a sort of sad smile. "Said where you headin' next?"

"Oh." Daryl smiles in return. "Probably the Kingdom. Haven't seen Carol for a bit."

Daryl still has to repress a cringe at that stupid settlement's name. Talk about being up your own ass. But he has to admit- the people there are good people. Carol clearly has taken to life there, is happy, belongs. And as much as Daryl may roll his eyes at the idea of Zeke being anything resembling an actual king beyond his dramatic and flamboyant personality, he certainly does treat Carol like a queen. And Lord knows the woman deserves it after the mountain of shit she's had to climb the past few years.

It's definitely not a place Daryl would ever like to live, but it's a perfect fit for Carol. The Kingdom is weird, in his opinion, and it makes him feel somewhat uncomfortable, but it's not a horrible place to visit. Sometimes. Once in a great while. If he were honest, he would kind of prefer Carol to visit him. Preferably with Shiva.

Rick nods. "Carol wrote me recently. Talked about how much she misses you."

Daryl once again feels a flush of guilt. He knows he's probably been a little cold the last few times he's gone to visit Carol, but the woman has always had the most uncanny ability to see right through him. Daryl wasn't ready to talk during those visits, so he avoided any real conversation with Carol beyond small talk and shop talk.

 _I'm ready now though_ , he thinks. It's one of the reasons he wants to see Carol before going to the Hilltop, even though it's technically only been about a week and a half since his last run to the Kingdom. Daryl knows that Carol realizes something is up, she might even know what it's about, and either way he's ready to be honest with her. He knows he owes his closest friend that much.

But now Daryl's _other_ closest friend is standing right in front of him, eyes kind and curious, handsome face curved into an understanding smile, hand still a comforting weight on his shoulder, and Daryl feels a sudden and uncontrollable urge to blurt out what's going on to Rick as well.

The man in front of him must sense it, for he tenses a moment, before saying, "You sure there isn't anything else you wanna talk about before you head out?"

And all at once Daryl feels his chest and throat tighten and his eyes get hot with tears and it's suddenly too much.

"It's Paul."

Rick gives him a questioning look.

"Jesus."

Understanding dawns on Rick's face which quickly gives way to an almost panicked appearance. "Is he okay? Did something happen? I only just saw him the other week-"

"No, he's fine," Daryl interrupts. "Or he was two days ago when I last saw him. It's about him and me. Me and him."

There's mild confusion written on Rick's face, but underneath that superficial layer, Daryl can see he already knows. Maybe he doesn't even know that he does, but he _does_.

"Nothin's happened," Daryl mumbles, embarrassed and scared for so many reasons he doesn't want to give thought to right now, so he keeps talking, ignoring the flushing of his face and pounding of his heart, his words coming out in a rush, tripping over one another in a wave of unstoppable feeling.

"Nothin's happened, but I want it to. I have...for a long time. I don't even know when exactly. Prob'ly when we met. I mean, I felt somethin' then. Tried not to, ya know. Was scared. But it was there. And then you and Michonne were so happy, and Abe talked about settling down, and Denise told me to face my fears...and Negan ruined that for awhile for me. He did. I couldn't...even think about it anymore. And then I was there. At the Sanctuary. A slave. I ate dog food, Rick. I ever tell you that?"

Daryl looks up long enough to see Rick's tear-stained face as he shakes his head 'no'.

"I did. That fucker Dwight brought me fuckin' Alpo sandwiches. And I ate them. What else could I do? Thought every day I wasn't never gettin' out of there. Thought I'd die there. Then Paul showed up. And he stayed. It didn't matter that Sherry was the one that opened the door. Paul stayed for me. He got me to a safe place. Gave me a place to shower. Clothes. Food. Helped bring me back from the dead. Got me thinkin'."

Daryl isn't finished, not even close, but he needs to stop for a moment. This is probably the most he's talked at one time since the dead started eating the living, or even before that. He needs to breathe.

Rick takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Brother. I am so happy for you," he says as he pulls Daryl into a full-bodied hug. The familial term sets  
Daryl off all over again of course, but he returns Rick's strong embrace with equal fervor.

"We never even talked about it yet," Daryl sniffles. I'm afraid if I just show up, he's gonna know. He's gonna know how I feel."

Rick let's go and pulls back so he's looking into Daryl's eyes. "So?"

Daryl wipes his eyes. _Such a sissy_.

Daryl wants to say so many things: " _So what if he doesn't like me? How do I even_ ask _something like that?! I never done anything like this before. I never been in love. I never had real sex, not when I really wanted to. I want everything. I want to spend the rest of my life with him_." And decidedly darker thoughts like " _I'm glad for the apocalypse and all the terrible stuff it's brought because it's allowed me to meet him_."

But Daryl is incapable of voicing any of it. Maybe to Carol when he visits her. He will try again then. More than likely he won't have to say anything. She'll just _know_. 

Instead he wipes at his eyes as his mouth twitches into a smile. "S'pose you're right," he says, pretending his heart isn't about to explode out of his chest in terror. "S'pose all I can do is try."

Rick's eyes twinkle in his intelligent, yet completely oblivious, way. "Exactly!" The man sounds almost jovial, apparently deciding Daryl's crisis has been completely solved and there's absolutely no reason to panic (damn him).

They hug once more before parting. Daryl walks down the lovely suburban block toward his motorcycle. He mentally pats himself on the back for making it through so many goodbyes and awkward conversations. Things got a bit dicey when he told Rick about Paul, but his friend doesn't think he needs to worry. Maybe he's right. Maybe there is no reason to worry.

Daryl's last thought as he revs up his bike is how likely he is to survive his conversation with Carol. As he drives off in the direction of the Kingdom, he reckons the odds aren't good. 


	2. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl has a little introspection regarding his first meeting with Paul.

Daryl swears he's been driving for days, and he _still_ hasn't reached the Kingdom. Thing about realizing that what you've always wanted is within your reach, it makes you want it _right then_. Immediately. Yesterday. Weeks ago. Months ago.

Looking back on their first meeting, Daryl is surprised that he hadn't backed Paul against the gas station wall and had it off with him right then and there. Of course, Rick was along and would've seen, which wasn't an altogether unpleasant thought. Daryl flushes. What would Paul have done, if he'd tried? Probably would've pulled some crazy ninja shit that would've ended with Daryl against the wall instead. And Paul behind him, pressed against him. Christ, he really needed to derail this train of thought. A motorcycle isn't the most comfortable place for your dick to get hard.

But the fact remains, Daryl was attracted to Paul immediately. Even while he was grabbing his gun and pointing it at the man, his thoughts were a swirl of confusion and lust. _Oh_ , he remembers thinking. _Isn't he pretty? Isn't he just about the prettiest thing you've ever laid eyes on?_ Daryl remembers feeling an insane urge to giggle at his thoughts, because he'd never thought things like that before. Sure, he would feel attraction to guys once in a while: Rick, Martinez, Glenn when he was alive, even Aaron a bit. I mean fuck's sake he had eyes in his head after all. But not like _this_. _Never_ like this. The immediacy and intensity was more than he was prepared for.

His heart suddenly felt too large for his chest, pounding as he took Paul in. His eyes were so...big. Almost cartoonishly round, and an undefinable blue-green color, with lashes he could see even standing a few feet away. They crinkled at the edges with good humor, the man clearly smiling beneath the bandana wrapped around the lower half of his face. Smiling even when he had two loaded guns pointed at him.

And his hair. My god, his _hair_. _Who the fuck has hair that shiny while the world is ending? Who the fuck has hair that shiny_ , period?! Perfect for a man to wrap his hands in. Perfect for pulling on while pounding into him. Or being pounded into. Daryl wasn't picky.

And his body was perfect. Small and lean, compact but well-muscled. He wore way too much clothing for the weather they were having and _really? A trenchcoat?_ And one of them stocking caps the hipsters would always wear. And a fuckin' puffy vest like he was going skiing or some shit. Not exactly practical, but for some reason it made Daryl feel even more lustful.

And then Paul had pulled down the bandana and _Christ on a cracker_ if Daryl's heartbeat had slowed in the slightest, it took to galloping once again at the sight before him. He understood why the guy called himself Jesus, because if God was gonna make a son you'd best believe he'd make the prettiest sum'bitch that ever walked His green earth. Daryl practically heard goddam harps and angel choruses when faced with Paul in all his glory. _Fuckin' face of an angel, but those lips are made for sin_ , he recalls thinking.

Paul Rovia was beautiful. There was no other word for it. God, it pissed him off and he wasn't quite sure why. What right did this man have to look the way he did? His entire appearance was one big tease, down to his shit-eating grin. Daryl knew that he wanted his hands on the man. He just wasn't sure what he wanted to do with those hands, if he wanted to hit him or kiss him. Wring his neck or grip his hips. _Don't kid yourself, Dixon. You know exactly what you wanna do to him._

And it was more than just that. For the first time in his adult life, Daryl suddenly realized, well, how _gross_ he was. His hair was filthy and unkempt, his body looking like he had been trying to win a mud wrestling championship, and he'd been wearing the same clothes for months on end without cleaning them, even when Carol repeatedly begged him to let her do his laundry.

"Pookie, you _stink_."

"Don't care."

And he didn't. Not until that moment, with a fuckin' masterpiece standing right in front of him with his arms open and a smile on his face. Suddenly, Daryl found himself caring a great deal. He wanted to hightail it back to Alexandria, hop into the nearest shower, and scrub himself within an inch of his life. Hell, he didn't need a shower. A hose would do. Or a stream. Anything to make him smell less rank.

It wasn't just physical though, oh no. Daryl could _handle_ mere physical attraction, even an attraction as powerful as the one he was feeling for the man calling himself 'Jesus'. He'd spent most of his adult life repressing and ignoring the attractions he would feel. It was something he had become well trained in. See a hot guy, think of skinning critters or cleaning up dog shit. At this point, it was a reflex, something he normally did without thinking. Better to avoid sex completely than have to deal with messy shit like relationships. 'Cause Daryl knew by now: even the good ones can end, and in this world they don't end happy. Ain't no real happy endings. Not anymore.

When he met Paul, he found he actually had to put effort into fighting against his feelings. His reflexive attraction-killing nasty thought process had left him in a rush, and he was left pointing a gun and having no idea what to do. Even so, Daryl found that by concentrating all his energy, he was able to simply choose anger and mistrust over arousal.

But the problem was more than the physical attraction. Daryl realized even as he punched Paul in the face for being a thief that he liked him. He didn't trust him, not immediately, but something about the man's cheeky shit-pulling was incredibly appealing. He was smart, and slick, and funny. Who else could steal shit so _nicely_? Who else could beat Rick up and leave him wanting to be allies with them? Who the fuck else could hitch a ride on the roof of their truck without them having any idea? Or toss Daryl bodily against that same truck as though he weighed no more than the backpack he carried? Who else would Daryl voluntarily chase through a field like he was in a damn romantic comedy? Who else could make him feel like such a fool and still leave him wanting to get to know them?

"Nah. Not this guy," he had told Rick while his brain screamed, _You idiot! Yes, this guy! Yes, this guy!_ He didn't exactly put up a protest when Rick suggested they follow him. If Rick had left it up to Daryl, he isn't sure he would have been able to follow through on his intense feeling that they definitely should know more about Paul Rovia, 'specially himself.

At the time, he had felt exposed. Like Rick was gonna interrogate him or about to take out a little cop flashlight and shine it in eyes. He was embarrassed that his attraction was as clear as spit and that Rick would laugh at him. Daryl knew that was stupid and his brother would support him no matter who he liked, but spending forty years listening to bigots can screw a person up.

Later, when Rick swerved the car to make Paul fall against him, Daryl felt overly defensive and shoved the man away as Rick smirked. But he couldn't keep his damn eyes off Paul. And it didn't have nothin' to do with not trusting the little shit. The asshole was just as cute while he slept as he was when he outsmarted them again and again.

He tried to be strong and make no bones about the fact that Paul wasn't gonna stay. And then he watched him while he slept, and brought him one of Carol's cookies and a glass of water. And after Paul made an ass out of Daryl yet again and escaped his guard _and_ broke into their armory, Daryl realized that the little ninja fuck had probably been awake the whole damn time. He tortured himself with thoughts of Paul knowing how much he had stared. But he also acknowledged that the other man returned the long gazes just as often, and definitely didn't seem to mind the staring all that much.

At least Rick hadn't seemed noticed the staring. But given his multiple conversations that morning in Alexandria, it seemed Daryl actually was more obvious than he thought he had been, and not just for Rick. In fact, Rick was the only one who showed even the mildest surprise, and Daryl is starting to think even that was just him trying to being polite.

Daryl shakes himself out of his thoughts for a moment as the Kingdom finally starts to become visible in the distance. He realizes he needs to mentally prepare for his reunion with Carol. He knows she is gonna be pissed at him for how distant he has been toward her. She's probably gonna yell at him somethin' fierce. Or she will just look hurt and disappointed, which is an even more terrible option. He can't stand making that woman sad, it's like kicking a wounded puppy.

But she will understand. She always does. Daryl knows that, just like Rick, Carol only wants happiness for him. The thought should bring him comfort. It should make all this shit easier, but it doesn't. In some ways, it's even worse.

Daryl is the one guy, seems the only guy, who's always been able to separate himself from all this crap. Losing any person in his family is bad enough, but the ones who lose a life partner, it ain't somethin' they'll ever get past. Like Maggie. She's doing good now. As good as she can, anyway, now only weeks away from a squalling, red-faced little goblin making its way into the world. But she ain't the same. She won't ever be the same.

Sometimes Daryl will see her staring at Hershel-turned-Glenn's watch, a pained little smile on her face. Sometimes she will lash out for no reason. Sometimes she will get a faraway look in her eyes, and Daryl wonders if she's trying to find Glenn somewhere, even if just in her mind. If she's trying to make it to where he is. One night, a few weeks back, he went to her room to bring her a baby blanket he found on a run, thick and fuzzy, cartoon jungle animals printed on it. Before Daryl could knock on the door, he could hear Maggie's sobs through it, deep and wrenching, almost inhuman. He had scurried away as quickly as possible and gave her the blanket at a community breakfast the following day, never mentioning what he had heard, but wondering how often it happened.

Daryl still can't believe that he has seen all of this happen and still wants what he wants. But he is pretty sure it'd be worth it. Even if he is eaten alive. If he got to wake up every remaining morning to Paul's pretty face, he's willing to die a gruesome death. He's never felt this way, after all.

 _Yes_ , Daryl decides as he comes upon the Kingdom gates, it was safe to say his obsession with Paul started pretty much right away. That first meeting had more impact on his life than he ever could've imagined. _The man who uses a crossbow for a weapon was unexpectedly struck by Cupid's arrow_ , he thinks wildly. Daryl was certainly attracted. He was lustful. He was infatuated. He was fuckin' obsessed.

The love though...the love...that came later.


	3. Kingdom Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl talks to Carol about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this conversation into two chapters, so this is part one and I'll try to have the next up in the next couple of days.

Carol is at the gates when Daryl arrives minutes later ( _musta heard the bike_ ). Try as he might, Daryl finds he is physically incapable of meeting Carol's eye. She says nothing at first, just gives him her eagle-eyed stare and pulls him into a tight hug. He squeezes the hell outta her in turn, noting that she's actually put on a couple of pounds.

The thought makes Daryl feel oddly giddy. It means Carol is happy and comfortable. Daryl doesn't think he has seen her eat regularly since early days at the prison when she was finally working past her grief over losing Sophia. He feels more than bones when he hugs her now, and that's good. It's really good.

"Eating like a real queen here, ain't ya?"

His less-than-innocent question is met with an elbow to the side.

"Daryl Dixon, did you seriously just comment on my weight? Because I've got a useful pet tiger not 50 feet away and she is very well-trained..."

Daryl can't help it. He pulls Carol into a hug once again. The way she calls him out makes him feel exposed, like he's suddenly been turned inside out.

"I don't mean it like that."

Carol rubs his back in gentle circles. "I know, Pookie. Just teasing you is all."

Daryl pulls back just enough to momentarily look Carol in the eyes before his own avert once again. He knows he's a total chickenshit. He pretty much fuckin' hates himself right now. But a long Peletier stare is the last shit he needs. He plays at general concern, suddenly afraid of Carol knowing about Paul, though he's sure she at least suspects. 

"Ya look good. Real good. I want you to eat...you never really eat. You just make sure ev'rybody else does. Just want you to take care of yourself is all."

Daryl finds that speaking these thoughts is doing nothing but making him feel even more desperate to tell her everything he's been feeling. Carol is finally in a good place and he's thrilled for her but also jealous as hell. How did she possibly get to where she is when he can barely carry on a conversation with Paul without feeling like a complete jackass?

Paul, with his beautiful face and even more beautiful spirit. Who is always kind and helpful and approaches him without expectation. Who sometimes looks at him for too long, he thinks, and then doubts himself, because there's no way a man like that would want him. Paul, who puts everyone else first and never asks for anything in return.

And oh, fuck, here it comes. Daryl's emotions are completely keyed up right now, and once he starts talking he finds he can't stop. 

"What is it with people like you? Why you gotta take on the world's problems when you got plenty of your own shit to deal with? Paul's the same way," and now he feels the cat's out of the bag because Carol's eyes widen slightly but she says nothing, and that's fine because Daryl cannot stop talking anyway.

"He got the entire fuckin' Hilltop whining to him about their problems, the shit they want, the shit they think they need, the shit they don't wanna bug Maggie with so they push it onto him instead. And he's so _patient_ about it too. He always listens, he always _cares_ , even when I can tell he's annoyed or don't really like the person. He gets things for people on runs and never gets himself nothing, except books and weird knickknacks and collector shit. Who needs a fuckin' sombrero during a war?! But all that weird-ass stuff he does just makes him more likable. He got everyone wrapped around his fingers. But he ain't got no one to take care of him. He ain't alone, but he's lonely. I know he is."

Daryl suddenly feels exhausted, but he's not finished.

"You were like that for a long time," he says and feels Carol squeeze his arm gently. Her eyes are shining. "You put your family first. All of us. But you ain't had shit for yourself. You went off to be alone on purpose. I always thought it was 'cause you felt lonely even with people around. And you couldn't keep taking care of everyone with no one to do that for you. But you ain't lonely anymore."

_Fuck, would this word vomit ever stop?_

"You found a place that takes care of you. I'm real happy about that. And I think maybe it makes me kinda mad too. 'Cause I want that for everyone. I don't want no one to feel sad or like they don't have nobody. I don't want Paul to feel that way." Daryl pauses for a good five seconds, and then adds, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Or me."

Fuck, Daryl is so obvious. It probably would've been more subtle had he just stated outright that he was fuckin ass over tits crazy about Paul; if he just told her how many hours he's spent imagining the man's eyes reflecting his own, or how much he wants to play with his hair. Fuck's sake, Daryl could tell her his fantasies about sucking Paul's cock until the man came down his throat and it would probably be less transparent.

Carol's eyes had been shining during his emotional declaration and by the end they're threatening to spill over into actual crying. Daryl cannot handle that right now.

"Can we change the subject?" he asks. Carol says nothing for a moment. Her gaze runs over him like a fine-toothed comb. The seconds tick by, winding the tension in Daryl until he can't stand it. "Will you just say somethin' already!" he blurts.

Carol smiles like a benevolent fucking genie, and for an insane moment, Daryl feels completely livid. _Fuck her_ , he thinks. _Ain't it just great she can be above fuckin' everything? Ain't it just great she got the option to be in that goddam position? Ain't everyone in that position but me?_ , he fumes internally. Daryl finds he's nearly shaking with fury, and he doesn't know why.

Clearly his anger is showing in his expression, because Carol's own quickly melts off of her face and is replaced with one of concern. This works to piss Daryl off even more. Carol knows _nothing_. Nothing of his relationship with Paul, so why does she look like she's been writing in her diary about it for months on end?!

"Daryl. What's wrong?" comes the blunt question, and if bursting into tears is considered an acceptable response, he's doing fuckin' splendidly with this conversation so far.

Carol takes Daryl's hand, guides him to a nearby bench and they sit down. She brushes the hair from his eyes and produces a tissue from God-knows-where. Daryl cannot say he's surprised, so he takes the offering and furiously rubs his eyes. He's actually feeling a little better now with getting so many thoughts out there. Bone-tired, but much calmer.

"It was really difficult for me when I first got here," Carol says suddenly, and Daryl feels a rush of gratitude. Carol always seems to know when he needs to listen instead of speak. And she always knows what he needs to hear, so he clings to her voice like a drowning man to a life raft.

"I was injured, and Ezekiel was kind. Everyone was, actually. But I wasn't ready...not for that. After everything that had happened, I didn't feel like I deserved it. I thought I was better alone. I thought I would be safer and life would be easier without all the hard decisions I always had to make. Because that's what comes from taking care of everyone else. Taking responsibility for everyone's well-being has led me to do some really terrible things."

Daryl wants to interrupt, to say Carol had no choice, but she beats him to it.

" _Necessary_ , but terrible. From the moment Ezekiel brought me in, I felt something...it felt _right_. I felt like I belonged, even though Alexandria will always be home, in a way. Or wherever all of you are, I mean. But this place, the Kingdom...I fit here." Daryl can relate. He feels the exact same way about the Hilltop. Carol laughs suddenly. "Of course, that sense of belonging made me hightail it out of here at first, because the last thing I needed was to have yet more people I cared about and needed to protect. But Zeke won me over. He visited me every week, he made sure I was okay, he brought me things.

"I can take care of myself, as you well know. I don't need to depend on others for things. But for once, I was being taken care of. I never had to ask. But Zeke knew I _needed_ it, even if I would never say that. And yes...I'm happy."

Carol takes Daryl's hands and squeezes. "Do you know that when you described me and Paul, you were also describing yourself?" Daryl ducks his head. _Yes, I know that, but I ain't worried about myself_. He then realizes the irony of his thought.

Carol continues, "You've always put others first. Merle, Rick, me, Beth, Maggie, Sophia," and that name is still hard to hear, but over the years it's become more of a dull ache than a stab to the heart. "Merle would've called you a follower, but you aren't. You're just unselfish to a fault. You've always made sure everyone else is okay, but haven't taken time to make sure _you yourself_ are okay.

"And then Jesus, Paul, whatever, found you at the Sanctuary. He took you back to his home. He gave you clothes, food, several damn showers which I still owe him dearly for. And you don't feel like you deserve it, do you?"

Daryl shakes his head and Carol sighs.

"Well, you're wrong, Daryl. You _do_ deserve to be cared for and you deserve to be loved. You are loved. We all come from the same stock, I think. You, me, him. Fucked up pasts leading to fucked up nows. It just turns out that Paul and I are slightly ahead of you when it comes to our nows being less fucked up. But you'll get there."

And here is where this whole conversation has been going. Carol's gaze sharpens suddenly; Daryl braces himself. He knows what's coming next. It's why he came here to begin with, but it doesn't dull the terror he feels.

"You're going on and on about Paul needing someone to take care of him, but I think it's more than just projecting." Carol lays a hand against the side of Daryl's face and turns his head to look her in the eye.

"How long have you been in love with him?"

And there it is.


	4. Kingdom Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Daryl's conversation with Carol

****It's strange, but now that the words are out there, Daryl feels an odd sense of relief. Of _course_ he's in love with Paul. He's known it for a while now, but he's never given voice to it. Not out loud, anyway. Technically he still hasn't; Carol has taken that step for him. But hearing the words and knowing they are true is something Daryl didn't realize he needed until now.

More than that, Daryl now realizes he _wants_ to talk about it with someone. He feels desperate for someone to know how gone he is on Paul. Suddenly, talking about this feels like it will be cathartic instead of humiliating and frightening. He's not exactly sure what he was afraid of in the first place. He's never come out to Carol, he's never actually said the words out loud before. But he's pretty sure she knows. And either way, she would never judge him.

 _How long have you been in love with him?_ If Daryl is honest with himself, he's not entirely sure. The infatuation was like a gun going off. Falling in love with Paul happened so gradually he didn't even notice until he was too far gone. Maybe he always had been. Maybe he'd been fucked from that very first literal run-in.

"Dunno, exactly." Carol raises her eyebrows skeptically.

"You _are_ in love with him, right? I mean it seems to be written all over you the last few times I've seen you."

Daryl blushes at how obvious he must've been this whole time. Everyone in Alexandria seemed to already know, and now he comes to find Carol has known too. Who else? Morgan, Zeke, fuckin' Jerry? And what about Maggie? Fuck, what about _Paul_?!

Daryl pauses for a moment and seriously considers that. What if Paul knows? What if he's always known? If he does, why hasn't he said anything? Maybe he's just not interested. Daryl wouldn't blame him. It's not as though he doesn't have other options. Even with no openly gay guys around, there could be other men who are bisexual. Hell, beyond that, Paul is pretty enough to turn a couple "straight"-but-curious guys if he really wanted to. Lord knows there are better men than Daryl around, even in the slim pickings of an apocalypse.

Daryl dismisses that train of thought quickly. Even if Paul knows, his silence on the matter may simply be out of respect. In the time Daryl has come to know him, he's found Paul to be such an emotionally gentle person, not the kind to push people in ways that might make them feel uncomfortable. Oh, he'll flirt. He flirts a lot, and not just with Daryl. But it's always in a lighthearted and teasing sort of way. Perhaps he's simply waiting for Daryl to come to terms with everything.

Thinking back to two nights ago, when he and Paul were sipping whiskey on the roof of Paul's trailer, sharing town gossip, laughing, marveling at how huge Maggie's gotten and how terrifying she becomes if you tell her about it, lying only inches apart, looking at the stars, and then at each other.

Daryl remembers how his heart had pounded at the intensity of Paul's gaze, his eyes glowing in the moonlight, his expression soft at first but then growing in intensity. He remembers Paul's eyes flicking down at Daryl's lips, then licking his own, and he may have actually gasped at that. Daryl remembers feeling himself growing hard in his jeans, just wishing and waiting for the other man to close the short distance between them, certain he could already feel the breath on his face, nearly desperate to feel Paul on him, all around him, inside him.

And then Paul had turned his face away, breaking the tension. He'd looked back at the stars and starting talking about the naming of the constellations. Daryl felt bereft, having no idea what had happened, wondering if it had been in his head, wondering why it hadn't continued.

The entire time Daryl is thinking these things with one part of his brain, another part is face-palming. _Just say this stuff to Carol! Tell her what's going on._ Carol is as patient as she can be, the way she always is. She lets Daryl work things out in his own time, but he can tell she's ready for him to just spit it out.

Daryl decides if he's going to tell the truth, he may as well tell the whole truth.

"I'm gay." Wow. He can't believe he was actually able to say it. Carol squeezes his hand again and nods encouragingly. After the first admission, the words explode out of him.

"I knew I was diff'rent, even as a kid. Merle used to call me soft. Sweet. He would call me Darylina. I ain't understood what he meant then, jus' knew it wasn't him being nice. But I wasn't like the other boys. They all looked at girls and talked about girls. They wanted to kiss them or touch them or tease them. I just wasn't never interested. Sometimes I would look at other boys though. Sometimes I wanted to wrestle them. Mostly I just wanted to be around them a whole lot." Daryl pauses. The next part is embarrassing, but he figures in for a penny, in for a pound.

"When I started to grow was when I understood what I was feeling. I started having wet dreams," Daryl's face is burning now, but Carol exhibits no surprise or disgust, just her usual understanding. Daryl feels comfortable enough to continue. "It was always guys I dreamt of. And when I started to...you know...was always guys I thought of. And I tried to think of girls. I really did. But my mind'd always wander back to boys.

"I think Merle knew. You know what a jackass he was. Never used the word gay. Think the fucker was scared of it. But he'd call me a sissy and throw girls at me to get me laid. To make me a real man is how he said it."

This part is still painful for Daryl. He feels his eyes get hot and well up a bit.

"I had sex. Mostly when I was drunk. Never really wanted it. But it was easier than Merle giving me shit."

Carol looks momentarily horrified.

"I wasn't never forced!" Daryl is quick to explain. "Nothin' like that. I just ain't never felt interested. It was jus' somethin' I did. But it made me feel shitty. Lots of times I just pretended to be too drunk. Made it easier."

Carol speaks for the first time since Daryl started spilling his guts. "Were there men?"

Daryl blushes furiously, his eyes firmly on his feet. He cannot believe he's actually having this conversation. With _Carol_ , of all people. He risks a glance upward and sees her eyes glinting and the tiniest smirk in her face. Dammit, the evil woman is enjoying this. Daryl finds he is too. It's hard, yes. Parts of it aren't the happiest things to talk about. But he feels happy. He feels...free. Either way, Carol may get the answer she's expecting, but he's pretty sure it isn't the answer she's hoping for.

"Nah," he answers honestly. Carol is kind enough to feign surprise. "Oh, don't bullshit a bullshitter, girl. You already knew that." She smiles.

"I assumed, yes. The way you trip over your own feet around pretty boys was a bit of a giveaway." Daryl blushes again. "So...let's fast forward to the falling in love with Jesus thing."

Daryl barks out a laugh. "It ain't just one thing. It's everything. I've been crazy about him since I met him, I guess. But only realized how deep it went a few weeks back. It's just...he's so smart, Carol. He's savvy. Got a good heart. He takes care of people. Of me. Of Maggie. He's selfless. Good fighter. I mean...when he does that ninja shit, I just..." Oh fuck he's gushing, isn't he? He's actually swooning over how hot Paul's fighting stills are. But who can blame him? Fuck! He lets out a big sigh, not sounding lovelorn at _all_ , and Carol begins grinning like a loon.

"I hate you," he mumbles.

Carol giggles and yanks Daryl into a warm embrace. "No, you don't."

Daryl returns the hug and gives her a kiss to her cheek. "Yeah, you're right. You're still a scary lady sometimes though. I don't wanna piss you off. I was afraid to come here, thinkin' you was gonna kick my ass."

When they pull away, if Carol's eyes are a bit shinier than normal, Daryl doesn't mention it.

"Don't think I didn't consider it," she smiles. So, is this why you've been avoiding me? Because you're in _love_?"

Carol draws out the word love so that it sounds utterly ridiculous. Daryl scuffs his toes at the ground like kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I know it sounds stupid, but you got X-Ray Daryl vision. I wanted to wait until I understood what I was feelin'. And what I wanted to do about it. I had decisions to make."

"And have you?"

Daryl takes a deep breath. "Yeah...I'm moving to the Hilltop. I mean, for good. Still doin' runs and all, of course. But I fit there. And it ain't even about Paul. I mean, not totally.

"The first time we went there, I felt like somethin' just fit. Even with that asshole Gregory-may he _not_ Rest In Peace-it felt more like home than Alexandria ever did. It's so hard to explain," but even as Daryl says it he sees Carol nod knowingly. _She feels the same way about this place._

"Even with the family there, Alexandria always made me feel...trapped. I spent most of my time on the road jus' to get away from shit. But Hilltop ain't never felt that way for me. It was always just...right. Paul bein' there don't hurt neither.

"It's the right place for me. And I know you're here anyway so it's not like it really matters where I am, but I jus' want ya to know..."

Daryl is forced to stop because Carol has started sobbing. "It still matters, Daryl. You matter." She holds him and rubs his back and now he's crying again too. He's really looking forward to when he inevitably runs out of tears. He wonders if it'll happen before or after he dies of dehydration. Carol sniffles. "I'm really glad you told me. And I'm glad you've found a place you belong."

There's a long pause while Carol lets him go and wipes her eyes. Daryl knows she's working up to something else.

"When are you going to tell him?"

Daryl doesn't know how to answer her question , because he doesn't even know the answer himself. "Ain't sure. I'm gonna try when I get there, but I need to figure out how. It ain't like I'm just gonna show up and throw myself at his feet."

Carol clears her throat. "Worked for Ezekiel."

Too many graphic images pop into Daryl's mind and he's ready for a change of subject. Fortunately, Carol beats him to it.

"You should stay for the night. We've got plenty of room, and Morgan is cooking a little group dinner. Should be done soon."

Daryl almost declines, but a look at the sky around him changes his mind. There's not much daylight left. And he _is_ pretty hungry.

"A'right. On two conditions."

"Shoot."

"I get to pet Shiva."

"Of course! Always. What's the second?"

"Got a shower I can use?"

"I really need to make Paul a nice fruit basket one of these days."


	5. Kingdom Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dinner is had and Daryl's imagination runs wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice the E rating ;)

That night at dinner is just lovely. There really isn't another word to describe it. In the past, Daryl had always felt the Kingdom was a strange place, but he cannot deny the bond and camaraderie between all its residents. They are a big found group of brothers and sisters and lovers, just like in Alexandria and the Hilltop. Everyone seems to know everyone else very well. There's lots of teasing and inside jokes, but he can feel the depth of love and regard beneath the surface. They are absolutely a family, and Morgan and Carol fit right into the fold.

Morgan makes a vegetarian lasagna that is absolutely phenomenal. Daryl tries not to embarrass himself by inhaling it too quickly (remembering the spaghetti incident at Aaron and Eric's house, but at that time he was too hungry to feel shame). But it is damn near impossible; the food is rich and warm and comforting and tastes heavenly. He is ready to give Morgan a round of applause and a hug for being so talented. Luckily, Daryl is able to control himself enough to keep from licking his plate, but only just. The folks must consider him a guest of honor because they keep piling food onto his plate, and about three quarters of an hour later, Carol suddenly appears with a rhubarb pie and Daryl is fit to be tied.

"How are y'all not 300 pounds?" he asks. That causes a collective chuckle and a lot of ribbing toward Jerry, who grins good-naturedly. Daryl wants to be embarrassed for putting his foot in his mouth, but no one else seems to be, so he smiles along with the group. He doesn't speak a whole lot, mostly answers questions when asked, but he feels more comfortable during this visit than he ever has in the past.

People slowly dwindle away, and Daryl is left with only Carol and Ezekiel. He finally gets a real firsthand look at their relationship working, and god does he ever want a relationship like that. The two of them just work together. They fit like two pieces of a puzzle, something so synchronized about their speech and moments. Two halves to a whole, it seems.

Of all the things in the Kingdom Daryl has been wrong about, Ezekiel is the most surprising of all. Away from the bonds of leadership for a moment, the title of king falls away as well as the mask. As the three of them lightly chat, he is jovial, kind, and more normal than Daryl has ever seen him. And does he ever dote on Carol, and Carol clearly adores it. Daryl can tell she is a little worried at first that he will judge her. She shoots him glances every now and then that say as much. But he just gives her an encouraging smile and nod as Zeke gently rubs her hand or pulls her into a kiss. Daryl has never seen Carol like this before. She radiates joy and peace. Knowing looks from Zeke have her blushing like a schoolgirl. Daryl once again marvels at how _nice_ it is to have someone taking care of Carol for a change. She has needed this for so long, and Zeke seems thrilled with the task. Though once he actually starts feeding Carol bites of pie, Daryl blushes and knows it's time to let the two of them be alone.

"I'll show you to your room," Carol offers, but Daryl shakes his head.

"Nah, Morgan already gave me directions earlier, I'll find it."

"You sure?" Carol asks, but with Ezekiel now kissing on her neck and her voice breathy, Daryl knows a damn tornado could tear through here and it wouldn't get her to move. Except maybe into Zeke's lap. He lets out a little giggle on the way to his room, wondering how many places the King and Queen have defiled. Daryl guesses most of the townsfolk have learned not to walk unannounced into any rooms.

He reaches his own without incident and barely manages to pull his jeans and shirt off before he collapses into the bed, suddenly exhausted. He can't believe that only that morning he'd been in Alexandria working up the courage to say his goodbyes to everyone. And tomorrow he will be back at the Hilltop. _God, what the hell am I going to do?_

In spite of the fact that Daryl had made plans ahead of time to move permanently to the Hilltop, he still has no idea how he is going to confess his feelings to Paul. Part of him thinks he should just come right out and say it. _Paul, I'm in love with you_ sounds simple enough, but he knows that in the moment it won't be that easy. It also doesn't feel...special enough. Daryl may not consider himself to be a big, mushy romantic ( _Who the hell are you kidding, Dixon? That's exactly what you are_ ) but he wants Paul to understand how serious he is. He could get him a gift of some sort, maybe? Do guys give other guys flowers? Maybe he could make a run somewhere on the way back and find a bottle of wine or something. Wine's romantic, right?

Daryl ponders for a moment. That might work, actually. He knows Paul has a bottle opener, he spotted it at the trailer one time when Paul found a bottle of some sweet white shit and said they had to celebrate making it to another summer. Even Maggie had allowed herself a couple of sips once Doc Harlan gave his okay. That settled it, then. Even if he has to hit a gas station and get some cheap shit, he'll find a bottle. And red wine, too. _That's more romantic_ , Daryl thinks. _Isn't it?_ And maybe he can find a book, or hell even a magazine for Paul while he's at it. The man had gone through his entire stack of reading material at least fifty times during Daryl's acquaintance with him. He doubts Paul would be too picky, anyway.

Daryl imagines Paul's reaction to receiving the gifts. He imagines telling Paul how much he's meant to him, how thankful he is, and how much he cares. Paul's face will soften in that way it does when he's moved, and maybe he will get a little bashful. Daryl thinks of telling Paul he loves him, and Paul returning his feelings. Maybe he will kiss Daryl then and there in front of the whole town. Daryl's stomach flutters pleasantly at the thought.

He suddenly feels decidedly less tired as his fantasies begin to take a more carnal turn. He thinks of Paul shoving him onto the sofa in his trailer and straddling his lap, coaxing Daryl's tongue against his own with smooth strokes. Daryl absentmindedly begins playing with his half-hard cock through his boxers, relishing the feel of it firming beneath his hand. Would Paul be a gentle lover, slow and sensual? Or would he like it a little rough? He admits having a bit of a kink when it comes to the Paul's hair. He finds himself thinking of wrapping his hands in it and pulling on it far too often. Daryl pulls his boxers down to his knees, freeing his erection, which is now fully hard and flushed a dusky pink. He feels a little strange about jerking off in someone else's house, but he is too keyed up to stop now. Daryl reaches over the side of the bed and grabs the handkerchief stuck in his back pocket. The least he can do is not make a mess.

Daryl begins to stroke his cock, slowly at first, root to tip, over and over, reveling in the sensations. He imagines how it would be with Paul. He decides Paul probably has smooth hands, and he knows they're smaller than his own. _God, what would his cock look like fully hard?_ Daryl caught a glance once, when he'd been in the trailer to drop off a message from Maggie and Paul had come unexpectedly out of the shower, stark naked and toweling off his hair. Daryl had turned away quickly, mumbling apologizes and red as a tomato, but not before he saw Paul, flaccid but quite large. Daryl shivers at the thought as he circles his thumb over the slit, biting back a moan. Paul hadn't even had the shame to be embarrassed, just greeted him like everything was completely normal and getting dressed while Daryl had his back turned, blushing and willing away his sudden erection. Paul was definitely endowed. How would that cock feel inside of him?

Daryl has a sudden need to roll over. He kicks off his boxers the rest of the way does just that, turning his face to the side and resting his chest on the bed, sitting on his knees with his ass in the air, exposed and wanting. One hand still lazily and rhythmically pulling on his dick, Daryl takes a moment to suck his fingers and reach behind himself, pressing two fingers to his pucker and groaning softly.

“Oh, _Paul_." Daryl has never had sex with a man before, but he isn't a stranger to the joys of anal pleasure. He squeezes his length and continues to stroke, speeding up a little as he increases the pressure on his twitching hole. He wishes he had lube, but just this stimulation is doing wonders. "Fuck...yeah." Daryl's moans are a little louder now, and he momentarily takes his hand from his dick to blindly reach above him and grab a pillow, shoving it against his face to muffle his grunts.

Daryl pictures Paul, long and hard, his cock pulsing with need, dripping. He'll lick it off, he'll take it all in his mouth, let Paul fuck him, his throat, his ass, his hand, his fucking feet, whatever he wants. He imagines Paul desperate for him, telling Daryl how sexy he is, how much he wants him, how long he's been thinking about this. How good Daryl feels around him. What a _good boy_ he is. Daryl groans as a fingertip slips inside of himself. "Oh, god, yeah, Paul, I want you."

He is deep into his fantasy now and pictures Paul's hands gripping his hips, holding him steady as he thrusts into Daryl again and again. Daryl desperately increases his speed, gripping his cock tighter and adding a little twist on the end. He feels his balls, so tight and heavy, and he can no longer keep from moving. He thrusts into his hand and back against his finger, now working its way further inside of him. He is hindered a bit from his position but he is so close, it doesn't matter anymore. He quickly grabs the hanky and lays it on the bedspread in front of him, knowing it's nearly over.

His release coils in his spine, stomach, and pelvis. In his mind, Paul is so close too. He is going to come inside of Daryl, telling Daryl how tight he is and that he can't hold back any longer.

Daryl can't either. "Yes, Paul, come inside of me, yes...yes... _oh_!!" With a sharp cry, Daryl comes hard enough to see stars, bucking into his hand as the pillow catches his helpless moans and the handkerchief catches the ropes of come spurting from his dick. It seems to last forever, the spikes of ecstasy crashing over him again and again in waves, until they finally ebb away. Daryl balls up the soiled hanky and shoves it back into his pocket, knowing it will have to be disposed of after that assault.

He pulls his boxers back up and rolls onto his back once more, boneless and sated. His eyes become heavy as sleep begins its inexorable pull on him, but he takes a moment to ponder what had just happened. Sexual pleasure has never felt like this before. Just the _thought_ of Paul sexually makes him come harder than he has in his life. What the hell would he do once he got the real thing?

 _Die of pleasure?_ The thought comes, hazy with the edges of endorphin-fueled relaxation. Daryl smiles softly and his eyes fall shut, powerless as sleep takes him in her clutches, quick and silent.

**************

"So, next stop is the Hilltop, right?" Carol is holding entirely too many pastries that she insists Daryl take with him.

"Yup. Might try to hit a few places round here first. Gather up a couple of things. Bike's still got a little room, though if you keep handing me shit that might not be the case for long."

"Shush. Everyone needs a good carb once in a while. I'm glad you stayed. It was wonderful to have you here longer than a couple of hours."

Daryl gathers Carol into his arms and squeezes her gently. "Your turn to visit me next time."

She kisses his cheek and smiles. "And I expect to see gross amounts of PDA between you and your new boyfriend when I do."

Daryl's face goes pink. "Stop."

"You'll be like animals, just making out all over the place and dirtying every room of that mansion and every bench outside and the trailer will probably fall to pieces."

 _You're one to talk_ , he thinks, but he doesn't say anything. Daryl is deeply flushed now, but it's not entirely unpleasant. As embarrassing as it is to talk about this stuff out loud, the actual thought of making out with Paul is...very nice. He hopes like hell no one heard him last night, but everyone has acted completely normal this morning. Thank God.

They hug one last time and Carol wipes away a tear. "I'll miss you, Pookie. Love you."

Daryl gives her a quick kiss to the cheek and mumbles a "love you too" before revving up the bike and driving off in the direction of home.

 _Home_.


	6. On the Road Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reading is fundamental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the dates of the GQ and gay romance novel circa 2010 based on when the show began as a model for when the outbreak happened. A Wrinkle in Time is one of the best novels ever written. It was originally published in the early 60s but re-released with illustrations in 1979, putting my Daryl at 10 when it came out. My canon Daryl would be 43-44 years old at the time of this story.

Daryl is lucky enough to find a small corner grocery store on the outskirts of DC that hasn't been wiped out yet. He puts down the two stray walkers inside and looks around, quickly spotting a few bottles of Cabernet. He knows next to nothing about wine, but it's red so he wraps some rags around them and slips them into his pack. He snags a bottle of whiskey while he's at it. May as well add a little liquid courage to the mix.

There's not much edible food here other than some beef jerky, stale chips, a few cans of soup, and candy bars. Daryl gives zero fucks and shoves everything that will remotely fit into his backpack. He puts the rest inside the seat of his bike, playing a game of Tetris around the baked goods Carol plied him with.

Daryl gives an approving nod to both his organizational skills as well as his ingenuity. Look at what a good future boyfriend he is being! He's going to provide both a nice meal to Paul as well as romantic (five dollar) wine. He even finds a pack of Twinkies for dessert. Paul would be a fool not to understand his intentions after this.

 _You idiot. Just tell him how you feel in words._ Daryl quiets his inner voice. Don't need words when he can make romantic gestures with food and drink.

And books! Daryl suddenly remembers his plan to find Paul some reading material. The store he is in is only one room, but he spots a rack in the corner with books and magazines stacked on it. Most of the magazine covers have either buxom girls in questionable poses on them or souped up hot rods. Some have both. Daryl shrugs and grabs a Taste of Home magazine; at the very least there are creative recipes in there. He also snags a Parenting monthly for Maggie. Finally, he pulls a copy of GQ off the shelf. Jake Gyllenhaal is on the cover, whoever that is. He's cute, at least. Daryl has no clue if Paul is into men's style magazines but hell, either way, he can look at the pictures.

Moving onto the scant book collection, it seems to be a mixture of new books ( _or new before the outbreak_ , Daryl thinks) and beat-up paperbacks people must've donated at some point. The new books are almost all of the romance genre. There are many tiny women with heaving breasts in the arms of huge men. But then Daryl spots a book with two guys on the front called "Making Promises". A quick glance at the back cover shows it's a gay romance so he keeps it. _How obvious are you gonna be, Dixon? You think you can just hand him wine and gay erotica without an explanation?_

Daryl shakes away his inner monologue and spots a large paperback tucked behind yet more romance stuff. _Under the Dome_ , the title reads. Daryl skims the back cover and knows for certain it's a good choice. He may not exactly be pop culture savvy, but even he knows who Stephen King is. He's been in Paul's trailer enough to know he doesn't have this book, but he's got a lot of horror and science fiction in his collection so he is bound to like this. It's a thick book too, a thousand pages at the very least.

Patting himself on the back, Daryl moves onto the couple dozen used books that are haphazardly thrown onto the shelf. Its mostly more romance which he doesn't need. However, Daryl notes a few true crime and mystery titles scattered about. Daryl doesn't have much more room, but the books are small, so he snatches the half dozen he finds, does one more scan of the area, and is about to turn away, when...

 _A Wrinkle in Time_ by Madeline L'Engle. Daryl's legs nearly give out. The copy is old and worn, probably one of the first editions. The corners are softened, almost rounded from use. There is evidence of the numerous times the pages have been dog-eared. But it's fully intact and perfectly readable.

Daryl needs to sit down. Or cry. Or something. He's holding his all-time favorite book in his hand, a book that until a minute ago he had forgotten even existed. He's transported back to when he was nine years old, finding refuge and solace in the nearby library. Daryl knew it probably sounded funny to think of him as a reader, but when he was a child, that was basically all he did.

His father would yell and ridicule and beat. Sometimes Merle was around to take the brunt of it, sometimes he wasn't. But either way, Daryl always wound up running. It didn't take long for him to realize that the only real safety was in a public place. It also didn't take him long to realize that most public places weren't exactly friendly toward children. Especially ones like him.

Daryl was visibly poor, with a dirty face and torn, stained clothing. Most establishments thought he would steal from them. Most didn't let him more than five feet in the door before turning him away. He never even considered trying the library. The building was huge, and all the people who went in and out were clean and pressed. They all had families. They were _happy_. All things Daryl would never be.

Then one day, when Daryl was 10 years old, his Pa laid into him with the buckle end of a belt and Daryl ran several blocks to an ice cream shop kitty corner from the library. He didn't have any money, but he just wanted rest there. He wasn't gonna bother no one, but he needed a place to sit. Within five minutes he was told he needed to leave, that the shop wasn't the place for him, and was scooted back onto the street.

And he looked across the street to the library. A large sign stood out front. It said "Reading is for Everyone! All are Welcome!" along with smaller lettering below about checking out new releases. The sign was like a beacon to Daryl. _Surely they wouldn't say all were welcome if it was a lie_ , an inner voice whispered. _They're inviting you in_.

Daryl walked toward the stone structure in a trance, wondering if it could possibly be as nice as the sign outside made it seem. It was.

As soon as crossed the threshold, he was greeted by a woman at a desk just inside the door. She was fairly young, with reddish hair and large, kind brown eyes. Daryl felt a natural inclination to run. The woman smiled as though she understood.

"My name is Debbie. What's yours?"

Daryl felt himself incapable of answering, but he must've done, because the next thing he knew Debbie said "Hi Daryl, it's nice to meet you" and held out a hand for him to shake. He was frightened, but Daryl shook her pristine cream-colored hand with his own short, grubby one.

Debbie smiled kindly. "Do you like to read?"

Daryl shrugged.

Debbie's smile faltered a little. "Do you know how? We have a lot of helpers here-"

"I know how. Learned in school." Daryl interrupted. "Pa don't buy books, that's all. So I don't got stuff around to read, except his magazines."

Debbie's eyes widened as though she correctly guessed exactly what Daryl was talking about when he mentioned magazines. But she quickly smiled again.

"Well, Daryl, do you have a library card?"

"Nah, what's that?"

"It's a special card with your own name on it. You can use it to take a couple of books home for free and then return them after you've read them."

Daryl felt a deep yearning inside. He wanted so much to be able to do this. But he knew without any real consideration that it just wasn't possible.

"Sorry, my Pa...he gets in these moods...Don't wanna take stuff home and have it end up ruined."

Debbie's frowned with sympathy. "Yes, that's tough," she said, before quickly brightening. "Hey, I know! How about we let you pick out books and read them here? I mean, you can already do that at a library, but I'll get you a card anyway. Then if your dad ever...cheers up...you can still check out books to take home."

"Okay," Daryl readily agreed. He remembers now how he'd itched to get his hands on a book. At the time, he had never read anything but short stories for school, stuff from textbooks, and articles from his Pa's spank mags.

Debbie looks thoughtful. "I have a good idea for a book you might like." She was still behind a counter and bent to a lower shelf to retrieve something.

"This book came out a while ago. Before you were born, in fact. But it just got released again with pictures included." Then Debbie plopped _A Wrinkle in Time_ in front of Daryl and he was never the same.

Daryl spent the next several years using the library as an escape anytime things at home got to be too much. He read hundreds of books, but he always came back to _A Wrinkle in Time._ After a while, Daryl no longer needed an excuse to visit the library, it was simply his favorite place to spend time indoors. Outside it was the woods, inside it was the library.

Wonderful, welcoming Debbie eventually left for college and Matt took her place. He was the one who gave Daryl a copy of the book to keep. Said it was no good to anyone else anymore since he'd read it so many times he wore it out.

Daryl was thrilled. He still kept the book at the library but he started writing notes in the margins. Favorite quotes and scenes from the book. Why it meant so much to him. Notations of things to look up later. Silly thoughts and poems. Tiny diary entries about his shitty day. Fears. Hopes. The reality of how terrible his life was. Fantasies about killing his Pa. Wondering if he would ever live long enough to grow up.

Daryl spent years fantasizing about finding his own Tesseract and escaping his life. Anytime he was sad, angry, beaten, he would go to the library, read his book, and write in it. After a while, he ran out of space and started writing on slips of paper he shoved into the book. Once he started, he was unable to stop.

Then one day, Daryl went to the library, and his book was gone from its usual space behind the front counter. Matt was at a loss, as was everyone else who worked there. It seemed to up and vanish like aerosol spray into the air. Daryl tried to shrug it off, but he couldn't. The library was still welcoming and it still had plenty of reading material, but it was somehow tainted for him then. He could never feel the same safety and comfort there after his book vanished. He spent weeks kicking himself over it, thinking it must've been his fault somehow. Sometimes he had irrational thoughts, like his book simply hated him and didn't want to be around him anymore.

Daryl consoled himself by bonding with Merle. He fell into some bad stuff and eventually forgot he even knew how to read, much less what he read. Until now.

Now, Daryl gingerly holds the book in his hands. It looks just like the one he had as a kid! It's definitely the same edition, at least. The cover matches perfectly. But it's more than that, and Daryl knows it. He feels almost a sick recognition of the book. There's something bone-deep here that Daryl is unable to keep from feeling.

He convinces himself that it's _A Wrinkle in Time_ itself combined with his years of repressing the memory of it. He has so many feelings tied into this story that it's natural he's more than a little shaken by it.

But it's not just that, and Daryl knows it. He knows this book. Not the story, but _this book_ itself. He held it in his hands for years. He turned to it when there was no one else for him. This is his book. The one that vanished. The one he needed for so long. He is certain of it.

A quick glance inside the book's pages confirms what Daryl already knew. It's impossible, but it's somehow existing right in front of him. His handwriting is everywhere. His thoughts taunt him from every margin. There's even a few worn slips of paper shoved between some of the pages. This book knows who he really is. It knows what he's spent years denying. If knows that if deserve better than Daryl Dixon. It must be why it somehow escaped almost thirty years ago. Yet, here they are.

This time, Daryl's knees really do give out.


	7. On the Road Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl gets his mojo back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been eight days since I updated this! I have been super busy lately but I've been trying my best to update at least once a week. I will continue to put the effort in and I appreciate every kudos and comment that I get. Honestly, it means a ton. I'm so glad that there's anyone out there that even reads my stories, much less actively enjoys them. So please continue to enjoy!

Once he recovers enough to comprehend what's going on around him, Daryl spends the next couple of hours perusing his old book. He reads the book itself, the notes in the margins and the little slips of paper haphazardly shoved inside. It still has the label from his old library and everything. Daryl has no idea how it got here. To think it's possible that a library book from his childhood could end up at a gas station hundreds of miles away 30 years later...it feels like a sign. Of what, he doesn't have a fuckin' clue. But there has to be something important about finding this here, now, when he's about to make the biggest, most life-altering confession of his entire existence.

He pockets the novel, gathers the rest of his things, and revs up his bike. Whatever the reason his book has reappeared, he's ready for the next step. Daryl Dixon is finally ready for romance, for the first and only time in his life. He feels a sudden burst in confidence and an actual sense of excitement at telling Paul how he feels. He suddenly doesn't want to wait anymore. He wants to get the hell out of this convenience store and make a romantic declaration as soon as possible. He realizes that there is a chance Paul might reject him. It is possible he doesn't feel the same way Daryl does. If that's the case, he will deal with the reality of that disappointment and heartbreak if or when it happens.

As Daryl takes off in the direction of Hilltop however, he realizes something. Something seemingly important and something he never really considered until this very moment. If he is being totally honest with himself, Daryl has a feeling the unrequited love and attraction thing is one bridge he _won't_ need to cross. He may not be the best person when it comes to romance and feelings, but he's not completely oblivious. He really thinks that Paul wanted to kiss him that night before he left the Hilltop. Daryl is not sure what stopped him, but he's almost positive he didn't imagine the other man's intentions.

 _You are only hours away from telling Paul how you feel_ , Daryl thinks. _He's going to know you are crosseyed, shit for brains, ass over tits in love with him and have been crazy about him since the start._

He should probably feel more unsure, but he doesn't. The combination of the conversations with Rick and Carol, thinking about his interactions with Paul, and finding his old book has given him a feeling of certainty he never thought he could have about a situation this serious and intense.

Daryl's bigger fear has to do with how Paul will respond if the response is _positive_ , as he suspects it will be. Well...not _fear_ exactly, but anxiety for sure.

He's never been with a man. He hasn't been with a woman either in at least fifteen years. He's going to shoot like a defective rifle at the first touch, he's sure. He hopes he won't be too disappointing. Paul is beautiful and openly gay and he's probably had tons of experience with sexy guys who were fantastic in bed. Daryl is more than a little worried about not performing nearly as well.

He doesn't think Paul would mind taking the lead. Before Daryl left the Hilltop the last time, he got to see firsthand what a great leader the man was. With Maggie so close to the end of pregnancy and the complications she had early on, she's been on strict bed rest courtesy of Harlan. Paul has taken over most of the work as a result, and he's a natural. Personable and genuine, he doesn't pretend to care about the citizens. He actually _does_ care. For real. And when he can't make something happen, he feels actual guilt over it. He'd brushed it off and ducked his head when Daryl complimented him on it a couple days before he left, but not so quickly that Daryl missed the blush that colored his cheeks.

The way Paul looks at him. The softness of his eyes. The feeling in his voice. The feel of his hand against Daryl's shoulder the few times he's actually reached out and touched him. The flirting. My god the flirting. The Kung fu bullshit practice in front of Daryl all the time. He swears that Paul does it on purpose. He will be outside, sweaty and shirtless, hair tied back into a messy bun, fighting an invisible enemy. Or sometimes he just stretches into long poses, sometimes catching Daryl's eye and giving a tiny smile. The way Paul always checks to make sure he's okay, wondering if the needs anything and always ready to provide it.

During the war with Negan, Daryl visited all the communities for a few days at a time, and every time he was at the Hilltop, he felt a wild desire to stay. Every time, he both wanted to and did spend more time with Paul. He went out of his way to be around him. Every time, it became harder and harder to leave. He smiled more, laughed more than he had in his entire life. Paul would do little things to fuck with people. It was never anything harmful or mean-spirited, he just liked to play harmless pranks, like when Daryl was showering one day and Paul replaced his regular undershorts with white and pink polka dotted briefs. Daryl still has no clue where he got those ridiculous fuckers but it was funny as all hell.

The more time he spent with Paul, the more Daryl opened up to him. One night, they sat on lawn chairs next to Paul's trailer and Daryl talked about his childhood. Nothing even caused it; Daryl simply started speaking. They were shooting the shit and suddenly Daryl started blurting about his past out of his own control. He talked about his abuse, his scars, his Pa and Merle's bigotry, how he contemplated both suicide and homicide for a time growing up. Paul listened, eventually placing a hand on Daryl's knee in sympathy. And when he had finished talking, Paul talked about how his parents were drug addicts. He talked about how they would have wild parties and have shit lying openly on tables in the kitchen and living room. Then Paul's mother was caught with half a pound of coke and he and his little sister were taken by DHS and placed in separate group homes. He had never seen her since, and it had happened when he was only nine and she was seven. He had talked about the ups and downs of living in his situation, and there were times Daryl felt downright luckier with his own fucked up past.

Daryl told Paul about Merle. About Sophia. About Shane, the prison, the Governor, Beth, the Claimers, and Terminus. He spilled more things to him without prompting than he thought possible to do so. Paul listened. Cared. Asked questions when appropriate, but was mostly content to let Daryl blather on.

All of this happened between battles. They would fight enemies and end their day talking, assuming Daryl was at the Hilltop. And he thinks that's where it started. Every time he wasn't at the Hilltop. He would spend all of his time thinking about Paul and wanting to talk to him and imagining how he would react to different situations. One day during a stay at Alexandria, Paul showed up to deliver a message to the group, and Daryl hadn't wanted him to leave. That's where he understood that his feelings went much deeper than he was originally prepared for.

Daryl would soak up interactions with him like a damn sponge and almost rejected other people in favor of more Paul. Daryl floated along, alive but not living, until his next conversation with the other man.

It was during one of those conversations, a few weeks ago, that Daryl finally realized that he was completely in love with Paul. He wasn't just attracted or infatuated. He loved Paul down to his fuckin' bone marrow. If laws still actually existed, he would marry the guy. Daryl thought about him constantly. He wanted to be around him constantly. He found interactions with most other people to be boring. He counted the days until he would see Paul again. And he thought about him when he would jerk off or finger himself. He had desperate fantasies where Paul would jerk or suck or fuck him until he exploded. But he also had fantasies where Paul would hold him and whisper sweet nothings to him, or play with his hair, or say how much he loved him. Daryl came just as hard during those fantasies, if not harder. There was really no other explanation for his feelings but love.

He cannot wait to get back to the Hilltop. He has his pack full and his bike full and Paul is going to be so fucking happy to see him. He's sure of it. Daryl tears down the road at a dangerous speed; he's so desperate to be back with the man he loves. He's been holding back what he wanted to say for a few weeks now and he's done with that shit.

Daryl has his wine. His books. His fuckin' Twinkies. His pure and not-so-pure intentions. And he is ready. Less than an hour until he sees his own personal Lord and Savior. Paul will be lucky if he doesn't get tackled and kissed immediately. Enough pussyfooting around. Enough hesitation. Enough _bullshit_.

He is Daryl mothefucking Dixon. It is time he started fuckin' acting like it.

Daryl Dixon _wins_.

 


	8. Back to Hilltop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl arrives home to find someone missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been terribly busy so chapters likely won't be as long for a bit. Thanks for all your support!

Daryl rushes back to the Hilltop in record time, practically crashing through the gates before they can be opened for him. He speeds directly to Paul's trailer, unceremoniously dumping his bike outside without unloading any of the supplies he gathered.

It takes him all of five seconds to realize Paul isn't in the trailer. The place is quiet, the stacks of books and knickknacks left untouched. It doesn't look like he's been there in a few days, actually, the empty feeling eerily permeating the entire home.

_Where the fuck did he go?_

Daryl unpacks the items from the bike and leaves them in the trailer. He grabs the parenting magazine and heads off to Barrington to look for Maggie. Surely she will know where Paul went off to.

Except she doesn't. At least, not exactly.

"He left not long after you did," Maggie says, rubbing her distended belly as she lies in bed. She's clearly bored out of her mind, practically yanking Daryl into bed with her when he bends to hug her. "He said he was going on a run and had some things to think about. Honestly, I thought he was trying to catch up with you."

"Shit. No, he wasn't." Daryl tells her about the couple of days he spent in Alexandria and his night in the Kingdom. Maggie is pleased that everyone is well, commenting that they'd better visit once she has the baby.

"I think Doc is having Carol come early to be his nurse, actually. She mentioned it to me on one of my runs."

"She'd better come soon, then. I don't think we have much longer to wait."

Maggie groans softly in discomfort and Daryl moves to readjust the pillows behind her back. Man, he loves Maggie, but she's become so huge it's hard not to giggle at the sight of her. He's been waiting for Doc to say he's suddenly discovered a second baby hiding behind the first. Or hell, maybe even a third. It's probably just because of how she's carrying. It doesn't seem she's grown anywhere other than her belly, so it appears as though she's swallowed a giant beach ball whole. She perfected her waddle at only a few months along. It's probably lucky that she's been restricted to bed rest at this point. Watching her attempt to walk results in a lot of huffing, puffing, and giving those watching the finger.

"Don't you still have a few weeks?" Daryl, of course, knows Maggie has exactly eighteen days left according to Harlan, but he's not about to let her know that. She already calls him a mother hen far more often than he's comfortable with. But the woman deserves to be doted on. She's been through enough already and doesn't need any additional stress.

"Eighteen days," Maggie says, and side-eyes him with a smirk. "But you knew that already." _Dammit_. "Anyway, I don't think I'm gonna last that long. He seems ready to be out." Maggie declined to know the sex of the baby at her last ultrasound, but Daryl has noticed she always calls the baby a "he". It could be motherly instinct, or maybe it's just a wish. But she hasn't wavered from it.

Speaking of doting...

Daryl pulls the rolled up magazine from his back pocket and hands it over.

"I know it ain't much. And this issue is a bit outdated, but..."

Maggie's eyes fill and she pulls him in for a hug. "I appreciate it."

"Got a few books too. And Carol sent cookies and those fancy filled donut things."

Maggie laughs. "For the hundredth time, they're called 'danishes'."

Daryl chuckles shakes his head. "I can't use words like that and still hold my head high, you know that."

"Thanks for everything." Maggie signals to the chair beside her bed, indicating for Daryl to sit. Predictably, it makes him want to flee so quickly he leaves a Dixon-shaped hole in the wall. He sits.

"Stay for a while. Could use the company." Maggie pats Daryl's hand where it rests in his lap and gives it a little squeeze. She looks at him for a few moments and Daryl's gaze drops to their intertwined hands. He can feel her eyes piercing the top of his head.

"So."

Daryl risks a glance upward.

"Wanna tell me what's going on with you and Jesus?" Maggie's eyes sparkle in the most annoying way. Daryl decides to play it cool.

"Don't know what you mean."

Her glittering eyes perform an impressive roll into the back of her head. "Okay, how about I tell you what I see, then?"

Daryl shrugs, acting as unaffected as possible while his insides squirm. He's not sure why Maggie knowing about his feelings makes him more nervous than it does with anyone else. He supposes it's because she's such good friends with Paul. She's the closest person to the situation, both physically and emotionally. The closest person who isn't Daryl or Paul themselves, anyway.

For some reason, this leaves him terrified. What if Paul doesn't feel the same way and she knows it? Has he been an idiot with a futile crush all this time? What if she thinks Daryl doesn't feel the same way and is angry at him? What if she knows they _do_ return one another's feelings but she thinks it's a bad idea?

This thought, more than any other, gives him serious pause. Daryl has never really stopped to consider what others would think about he and Paul in a relationship. Or even just _him_. Got knows he ain't the easiest person to get along with. Maybe he isn't good for anyone. Maybe Maggie knows it. Maybe she's going to tell him this. She may think Daryl is one of the good guys, but Paul is one of the _best_.

Daryl knows that Paul is entirely out of his league. He may like Daryl back. Hell, he may even love him back, but Paul is so damn...perfect. He's worth it all. He deserves the world. And what can Daryl give him? Roadkill? Cheap wine and fuckin' Twinkies? He wants to stop his inner monologue from ruining his earlier burst of confidence, but it's so difficult to do while he has Maggie's earnest eyes looking through him.

"Hey!" Hands suddenly clap in front of his face and Daryl jerks out of his thoughts. Oh great, now Maggie looks pissed. Wonderful.

Maggie sits up with difficulty, hands rubbing her bulbous stomach, and let's out a deep breath.

"You listen to me, Daryl Dixon. Whatever you're thinking, stop. Just...stop. Look at me, and listen. And let me tell you what I see.

"I see two men who have been dancing around each other for months. I see two men who are so gone on each other neither can tell a damn cow from a rooster. And neither of you will tell the other one how you feel. It's getting ridiculous, to tell you the truth.

"If I have to see either of you make sad puppy dog eyes at each other one more time, I won't let either of you hold the baby when he comes. You're in love with him and he's in love with you back, so for God sake, get on it with already."

Daryl protests, but Maggie interrupts him.

"If you hurt him, I will kick your ass. And before you think I'm being unfair, I've already given Jesus the shovel talk, okay?"

Daryl needs to replay what Maggie has just said so that he can grasp it. She said the two of them, first of all. Maggie seems to think...and if she thinks it...and she just said she's given Paul the shovel talk about him. About _him_. Meaning Paul _does_ return his feelings. He's talked to Maggie about it.

He wants to comment on it, to thank her, something...but all he can say is "I'm moving here. To stay."

Maggie melts. "Daryl. I'm so happy to hear that. Jesus will be, too." She pats his hand once more. "Don't fret. I think he left to work things out, same as you. He'll be back."

Daryl nods. "And I'll be ready."

Now that he knows for certain that Paul returns his feelings, he's more ready than ever to declare himself. He still not completely sure how he's going to, but at least he knows he's not throwing some feelings out there that will go possibly unreturned.

At this point, all Daryl can do is take comfort in knowing that Paul loves him just as deeply as he loves Paul. That, and wait. Not so patiently, either. That beautiful ninja needs to get his sweet ass back here, and quick.


	9. The Pendulum Almost Swings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl spends some quality time with Maggie and has a very pleasant dream that's interrupted by an even-more-pleasant reality.

Daryl spends the rest of the afternoon hanging out with Maggie. They eat meatloaf sandwiches courtesy of the kitchen and shoot the shit. Well, to be fair, Maggie does most of the shit-shooting while Daryl nods and smiles but it's still nice to spend some time with her.

She's been largely absent most of the time since she went on bedrest, and while Daryl wants to see her, he also doesn't want to be a bother. Maggie has assured him multiple times that he's always welcome, but he still worries about showing up uninvited to her room in Barrington and being a pest.

_That's a lie_. If Daryl is honest with himself, what he's truly worried about is showing up to her room and being met with her wracking sobs through the door again. He has mostly let go of his own guilt over Glenn's death, but it's still a raw thing to witness someone grieving. No matter how good Maggie seems 99% of the time, Daryl knows that she is unlikely to ever fully let go of her grief.

They don't talk about the people they've lost. That's Maggie's preference more than anything. It's a testament to the sort of person she is. She has always been goal-oriented, and focusing too much on stuff she can't control always tends to make her feel helpless. Maggie's way is to focus on things that she can help, and Daryl is more than happy to go right along with that because he hates revisiting all the pain his family has been through.

So, they bullshit. They chat about townsfolk, speculate on if and when Rick will get Michonne pregnant ("I give them to the end of the year at most," Maggie says sagely). They talk about Carl and Enid's horrible attempts at subtlety regarding their own teenage hormones and the sheer number of times Daryl and Paul have had to fetch them condoms while on a run. Maggie shares some details of her pregnancy. She confesses about the time when she drank too much water before a town meeting and had to piss so bad she pretended to be sick to cut out early. "I still didn't quite make it there without going a little in my pants," she says and Daryl laughs so hard he nearly does the same.

He asks her about baby names, and she remains predictably stone-faced on the subject. Daryl and Paul have been trying to get Maggie to drop any sort of hint all these months, and she refuses to budge. He has his own ideas since it seemed Maggie was decided on possible names right away, but it doesn't stop him from trying to get her to tell him anyway. She always sighs and says they will know when everyone else does. Paul tried fake-pouting once; it did not go over well. But he looked cute as hell and if it were up to Daryl he would've spilled the beans in a heartbeat. 

After a few hours, Daryl notices the sun beginning to get low in the sky and sees Maggie starting to droop a little. He's about to take his leave when there's a knock at the door. Maggie perks right back up and calls "Come in!" as Daryl's heart begins to hammer in his chest. His mouth goes dry and he gets a sudden sense of vertigo. _This is too quick! I ain't even had a chance to get the trailer ready!_

His fears prove moot a moment later, however, when the door opens and a handsome man with dark hair and sparkling eyes enters. It's Dante, one of the Hilltop guards, and he's carrying a plate with a large slice of chocolate cake on it. He greets Daryl distractedly, his eyes never leaving Maggie as he brings the plate over to the bed.

"There was extra."

"I don't need it," Maggie says, signaling to her stomach.

"Yeah, I know," Dante answers, and at Maggie's raised eyebrow he smirks a little bit. "Maybe the little one does."

She thanks him and he leaves quickly, but Daryl cannot miss the faint pink of his cheeks as his eyes follow the other man out the door. When he turns back to Maggie, she's giving him her patented look of death.

"Don't say a word."

"Wasn't gonna," Daryl says before promptly bursting into laughter.

"Dammit, Daryl, cut it out!" But Maggie is smiling as she nails him in the head with a pillow.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he's just so..." Daryl thinks a moment as his giggles subside. "He reminds me of a puppy dog, only more of a smart ass."

"He's _nice_. And he's a reliable guard." Maggie smiles at her hands for a moment. "Yeah he's a little bit of a people pleaser ( _A **you** pleaser is more like it_ , Daryl thinks) but he's good to have around. We need good people."

Daryl has been wondering for a while, but he's pretty sure he's ready to call it: Maggie is definitely warming up to Dante. Paul will be so pleased. The two of them have been hashing it out for ages. Daryl was strictly on the "no way, you're out of your mind" train, while Paul kept saying "Just you wait, it's gonna happen eventually." Daryl thinks his own knee jerk reaction against it was more about loyalty to Glenn than anything against Dante.

The poor man has had the hots for Maggie for ages. At first, Maggie was borderline antagonistic toward him, tolerating him but not liking his obvious crush on her. Daryl could tell it made her uncomfortable, even though Dante was never pushy or aggressive about it. He never said or did anything at all actually, trying to be as respectful as possible. But his desire radiated off of him in waves.

Paul always said it was guilt over Glenn and would subside at some point, and when it did, Maggie would realize she's still alive and Dante is a great catch. He remembers one day when Dante walked by the trailer on his way to the house and Paul checked him out and gave a low whistle under his breath. Daryl felt a searing hot spike of jealousy tear through him and had almost grabbed Paul then and there. He had to physically stop himself from carrying the little tease into the trailer and having his way with him. And he's pretty sure Paul knew what he was doing to Daryl in that moment, if the bright-eyed little smirk he gave meant anything.

Daryl still wasn't sure about Dante at the time, but now he thinks it'll be good for Maggie someday. He doesn't think it will happen any time soon, of course. The woman is still pregnant and after she gives birth she's gonna be busy as shit for a long while. But he's pretty sure Dante will be happy to wait forever if it took that long.

_Longing for someone is a sonofabitch_.

He doesn't say any of this to Maggie, though, just his goodbyes for the night. He gives her a kiss on the cheek and steals a mouthful of the cake as she play-stabs at him with her fork. "The baby needs it! You're stealing from a defenseless child!"

*******************

Back at the trailer, Daryl unloads some of the things he didn't leave in the Barrington kitchens. He lays the magazines and few books out on the table, keeping _Under the Dome_ and _A Wrinkle in Time_ in his pack for now. He sets the booze out, but keeps the wine and Twinkies packed away as well. He still has no idea where Paul even went, much less when he's going to be back, but it's still early.

Daryl pours himself a couple of fingers of whiskey and spends the next few hours playing hands of Solitaire by lantern light. There's no sign of Paul, though, and he's getting more sleepy by the minute. He finally calls it a night when his eyes simply won't stay open anymore.

_Maybe tomorrow_. Daryl tries not to worry. He doesn't think Paul is in any danger, but what if he's avoiding him? Maybe he's not ready the way Daryl is. He hears his entire family's voice telling him to stop his train of thought, and amazingly, he does. It could simply be exhaustion, but he's gotta trust his gut on this one. Plus Maggie confirmed Paul's feelings to him earlier, and she wouldn't have said something like that unless she knew it to be fact. He's already waited for so long. One more day won't hurt.

Daryl usually sleeps on the couch unless Paul forces him into the bed, muttering about Daryl's complaints about his sore back. He does notice that Paul guiding him toward the bed has been happening more and more lately. And the man isn't here anyway, so he may as well be more comfortable.

Daryl strips down to a tee shirt and boxers and relaxes into the bed. God, it smells like Paul. Earth, and woods, and fuckin' sunshine. If pure love had a smell, this would be it. Daryl wraps a Paul-scented blanket around himself and pretends it's the real thing. He feels more at peace than he has in days. He knows he's made the right decision to be here. It's not about Hilltop being home to him. _Paul_ is home to him. Daryl falls asleep to that thought, surrounded by pure love.

*******************

That night, Daryl has the most wonderful dreams. He dreams of Paul smiling at him. He dreams of Paul's arms around him. He dreams of Paul singing softly in his ear, something that sounds like a lullaby but it's not.

_What is the light_  
That you have  
Shining all around you?  
Is it chemically derived?  


_'Cause if it's natural_  
Something glowing from inside  
Shining all around you  
Its potential has arrived  


_Looking into space, it surrounds you_  
Love is the place that you're drawn to  
Looking into space, it surrounds you  
Love is the face that you're drawn to

Daryl must've heard it somewhere before. Paul's voice is so nice. He's caught the man singing once or twice but he seems to be shy about it. It's always under his breath. Has Paul sung this song before? There must be a reason he's dreaming of it. 

Daryl dreams of Paul running his hands through his hair and his body shivering with it. He feels the slight scratch of nails on his scalp and the slight tugs as he works out the knots. God, its bliss. 

He dreams of reaching out to Paul and pulling the other man's slender body against his own. God, it's so real. He can feel the pounding of Paul's heart, quick and first and then slowing as they relax into one another. Daryl can feel Paul's breath against his neck and long hair tickling his face. It's fuckin' heaven. He almost hopes he never wakes up if all his dreams are this perfect. 

_Fuck, Paul, I love you so much_.

Dream Paul's voice catches as he says "I love you too, Daryl."

The dream fades away and Daryl is alone again.

*******************

That is, until the morning.

Consciousness dawns slowly for Daryl. He feels warm. Abnormally warm, actually. He's not necessarily a cool sleeper, but right now it feels like he's pressed up against a small furnace. No wait, he's _holding_ the furnace. And the furnace is breathing. And holding him back. 

_Oh my god. **Oh my god**_. 

Daryl feels the soft, even breaths against his neck. The hair tickling his face. The surprisingly strong arms against him and around him. The legs entangled with his. And he _definitely_ feels the morning erection pressing into his hip.

He already knows what he's going to see, but risks a glance anyway. Paul Rovia is fast asleep and pressed tightly against him. His head is resting in the crook of Daryl's arm. He's got one hand resting against Daryl's chest and the other slung over his waist. They're legs are a jumble and kind of remind him of octopus tentacles. Daryl looks more closely at Paul's face, and _Oh_.

His face is so soft in sleep. His lashes are long and feathery, leaving tiny smudged shadows under his eyes. His mouth is full and relaxed slightly parted, and Daryl wants to kiss it so badly he feels an actual physical ache. The slightly upturned nose is even cuter than usual. He looks younger somehow, peaceful in the not-so-peaceful world. He wonders if Paul is dreaming of him the way he did...last night.

And like that, Daryl is wide-fucking-awake. _It wasn't a dream_.

While Daryl is trying to process this new information, Paul ( _of course-little shit_ ) decides to stir. He gives a soft hum which sounds entirely too sexual, does full body stretch like a god damned cat, and his eyes snap open. No fuckin' preamble. He's just...fully awake. And they're still definitely cuddling. And Paul isn't the only one who woke up with morning wood. 

Daryl has no idea what to say, but he's saved the trouble. Paul smiles and lifts the hand that was around Daryl's waist to touch his cheek.

"Hi."

Daryl clears his throat attractively. "Hey."

They stare at each other for a few moments. Paul's eyes drop to Daryl's mouth and he unconsciously licks his lips before glancing back up and locking eyes with him. Daryl feels his arms tighten around Paul a bit, pulling him closer, so their noses are touching and they're sharing breath. Paul grips Daryl's shirt with the hand splayed on his chest. There are cymbals crashing in his head and a swooping sensation in his stomach. It feels like that moment at the top of the rollercoaster, when the drop is inevitable and you're hanging by a thread, weightless and helpless. Their lips are millimeters apart.

" _Daryl_ ," Paul whispers and Daryl feels it in his mouth.

_Oh God this is it. The pendulum swings, the rock rolls down the mountain, the coaster's momentum propels it down the hill, and he's about to finally fuckin' kiss Paul_.

There's a sharp knock on the trailer door.

_FUCK!!_

For a moment, Daryl is still spellbound, ready to ignore the intruder who better hope he or she is actually on fire right now or he's gonna kill them. But then the knock comes again and he hears Dante's voice on the other side.

"Jesus? Daryl? Either of you in there?"

Paul looks disappointedly in Daryl's direction but his eyes hold lewd promise as he calls "Yeah, out in a minute."

Dante's voice comes through again and he sounds quite frantic. "Great, but uhh, not sure how much time we have. Maggie's in labor. And the baby's coming fast."

_DOUBLE FUCK!!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to throw a bone to Dante since we know he's going to be in s8 of the show. 
> 
> Damn Maggie's labor amirite? But you know what this means: Daryl and Jesus holding a tiny baby! <3
> 
> The song Paul sings is "What is the Light" by the Flaming Lips. Seems like a band he would dig. Thanks so much for reading! More to come soon! 
> 
> I appreciate every kudos and comment I receive.


	10. Life and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A baby arrives, among other things.

Daryl has always thought that walkers were monsters. And the sounds they made were the true sounds of hell. That was before he was in a room with a woman in the process of giving birth.

And holy fucking shit! Maggie sounds as though she is either being torn in two or being possessed. Maybe both. Daryl is half expecting her body to actually split while her head rotates full circle like that scary movie he and Merle watched when Daryl was a kid.

He's doing his best, saying encouraging words and handing towels to Harlan when requested but he is fucking terrified. Try as he might, he cannot forget Lori. Maggie roars like a goddamn demon, and Daryl cannot forget Lori bleeding out from a half-assed emergency c-section performed by this wailing banshee herself.

Maggie obviously can't, either. Daryl sees the fear behind her eyes clear as day. Logic says everything will be fine. This isn't like it was with Lori. There's an actual Doctor here to help, and some medicine as well. It's not an inexperienced person with a big knife on a dirty prison floor. But the fear persists, for everyone there. Even Doc.

Daryl knows everything is going fine. He would be able to tell if Harlan was truly worried, and he clearly is not. He keeps Maggie's breathing going and is monitoring her dilation. It's almost time to push, now, and Doc seems excited.

Daryl is pretty sure he might pass out like a sad sack of potatoes. He looks to Paul and the fucker is positively _glowing_. He looks fucking thrilled. He's got the most infuriating shit-eating grin on his face and he's cheering Maggie along as sweet as can be.

Daryl wants to grab him and kiss him right then and there. How dare he sit there, being so calm? So happy? So fucking beautiful?! Paul's very existence is an exercise in torment for one Mister Dixon and Maggie better push that kid out soon because Daryl isn't sure how long he can hold himself back from pressing Paul against a wall and kissing the hell out of him.

He still cannot quite believe how close things got there. And now he's...not having _regrets_ , but wondering. Should he have waited for the physical stuff until he explicitly stated his feelings? Daryl supposed he kind of did say what he felt while he thought he was dreaming, but there's still _so much_ to say. So much to discuss.

Paul may know now that Daryl is in love with him. And Daryl knows that Paul feels the same. But there's been no talk about what that might _mean_ , what it might entail, and what their relationship will look like going forward.

Daryl thinks that's an important thing to discuss, but it's so hard to focus on that when he has his arms full of the most beautiful creature in existence and said creature wants him. How can he resist that? How can he ignore the object of his affections wanting him back so desperately?

Daryl knows what he wants. He wants it all. He wants everything Paul is willing to give him. He wants forever, or as long as forever lasts in a world like this. He wants to fall asleep every night next to Paul and wake up together in the morning. He wants to cook meals for Paul...though he may need some lessons first. Daryl wants to cuddle with him- _God_ does he ever want that. When he woke up tangled with Paul, it fit more perfectly than anything he's ever known. He wants to laugh and drink and even bicker. He wants to tell everyone that they're together. He wants to find an old stray cat or dog and adopt it. He wants to build a home with Paul.

Daryl feels lightheaded, and it's not due to Maggie sucking all the oxygen out of the room with her heavy breathing. He's overwhelmed not only by what he wants, but how _much_ he wants. He grew up surrounded by unhealthy examples. Parents, siblings, friends, and relationships. Daryl would see a movie or tv show with a happy couple or pass a laughing family on the street, and he never understood it. He didn't know how they made it work. He didn't know why anyone would want to spend all their time with someone else. He didn't truly get what love meant. Until the walkers came, that is.

Afterward, he came to understand friends. Family. Romantic love. Seeing Glenn and Maggie and more recently Rick and Michonne, he got it. It didn't seem so strange or silly anymore. When Paul showed up, he was pretty much screwed from the start.

Daryl has come to understand that love-real love-isn't a feeling. It's a choice. And it's not a choice you only have to make one time. It's a decision you make over and over again, every day of your life. It's hard. It takes effort, even on the best of days. It requires so much self-sacrifice and patience.

Even with his family, Daryl has moments when he wants to push everyone away and close himself off. He doesn't understand it, but the feeling is there. There are times he has to make conscious effort not to be rude for no reason or snipe at Rick or Carol when they don't deserve it. Sometimes he's rude anyway. Daryl is lucky that his family has made the choice to love him back and understands his moods going dark sometimes. And he understands when it happens to them.

Paul. Paul has somehow decided that Daryl is worth the effort he will have to put in. The beautiful man who could have the pick of the litter if he wanted loves _him_. He hopes Paul wants forever too. Daryl hopes he understands how serious his feelings are. How deep they go. Daryl will cut open a vein and bleed out in front of him if it would prove how much he cares.

Another heavy metal death scream from Maggie interrupts his thoughts as Harlan says it's time to push. Daryl is now quite certain he's going to faint. There's a sudden hand in his and he looks over to see Paul, eyes soft and wearing an understanding smile. Daryl can't stop his free hand from cupping Paul's face. He runs his thumb across that plump bottom lip and Paul gives the pad a tiny flick with his tongue. Daryl feels sudden liquid heat pool in his belly, sharp and unrelenting. He actually gasps out loud, and Paul locks gazes with him, all twinkling eyes and mischievous grin.

Oh this absolute _fuck_. He is going to torture Daryl so much he will probably come like a fucking geyser the moment Paul gets a hand around him. Then he realizes how selfish he is by letting his libido get the best of him. Maggie is crying out and Doc is telling her to push and Daryl quickly disengages from Paul and rushes to her bedside.

"Take my hand," he says, and she does. Paul goes to the other side of Maggie's bed and holds her other hand. Holy _fuck_ this woman has a grip of steel. Daryl tries not to whimper at his bones rubbing together as he acknowledges the large softball that's gonna be shoved through Maggie's, erm, keyhole in a few minutes here.

Maggie grunts and hollers and pushes and all three men cheer her on and Daryl wishes so badly Carol was here but there was just no time to fetch her. _I'll go to the Kingdom tomorrow. Maggie needs all of us here right now._

It's like his thoughts are a bat signal, as Enid suddenly bursts through the door accompanied by none other than the Queen Herself. Daryl hopes he has a proper amount of "Oh my God please save me" injected into his expression. Carol smirks at him and gets down to business.

It's obvious she's not really needed from a medical standpoint. At this stage, the car pretty much drives itself and Harlan had it all under control beforehand. But my _God_ , is she ever welcome. She barks orders at Maggie to push and tells Paul to get more towels in true Carol fashion. She asks Enid to pull the supplies she's got packed in her bag and even Doc seems ready to just back away and let her do her thing for a moment.

"I see the head!" Harlan and Carol exclaim together, and Daryl feels an instinctive need to look. He does, and holy fucking shit. There actually is a head making its way out of Maggie's body. It's got a full head of dark hair. _Just like Glenn_.

Maggie is demanding to know what the baby looks like even though they've still only seen a sliver of head and she's in the middle of pushing.

Paul says, "Hair. Lots of it," and laughs.

Maggie gives a laugh that sounds more like a sob and asks the color.

"Dark," Daryl answers.

"Like Glenn." Maggie says.

He nods, and she gives a momentary heaving sob before suddenly bearing down as hard as she can. It seems she's more determined than ever to see the baby. Daryl stretches far enough to both grasp Maggie's hand and get a look at what's happening. It seems Paul is doing the same. Enid is staring at the action with her mouth agape and arms full of knitted stuff from Carol's pack.

Suddenly, the head pushes the rest of the way through, and Daryl is greeted with a face almost identical to Glenn's. At this point, it seems Harlan has given Carol free reign as he backs off and proceeds to cheer Maggie on while Carol takes the position of doctor for this moment.

"One more push, Maggie!" Everyone seems to be shouting together and Daryl is pretty sure she breaks a few bones in his hand but it's worth it when a tiny creature literally _shoots_ out of Maggie's body into Carol's waiting grasp.

Maggie gives a deep gasp at the sudden emptiness and Daryl is more certain than ever he's going to faint. There is a tiny, squalling, extremely red and angry wriggling little _thing_ in Carol's arms. It reminds Daryl of an offended fire ant.

Carol is all business for a moment. "Enid. Scissors. In my bag." The obviously freaked girl hands her the tool and she cuts the cord with quick efficiency.

Before Daryl has really had much of a chance to take the little thing in, he hears Maggie's exhausted voice. "Is it okay? Is it a boy or a girl? Can I hold it?"

Daryl looks to Carol. She smiles at him and gives a little nod of encouragement. He clears his throat nervously.

"Congratulations, Maggie. You have a son."

The sobs are instantaneous. Maggie's face immediately crumples and she reaches out her arms to Carol who hands her the swaddled infant. He looks so much like Glenn it's uncanny. Tears prick Daryl's eyes. It's such a bittersweet moment; to know that Glenn will never meet his son, but feeling the joy that this part of him lives on.

The baby's wailing stops only moments after he's placed in Maggie's arms. She sniffles and smiles at the even littler Li'l Asskicker.

"Everyone, I want you to meet Hershel Shawn Rhee."

Daryl's heart gives a painful throb and he's pretty sure he's about two seconds away from breaking down and then he feels Paul take his hand and give a gentle squeeze. It grounds him, somehow. Paul always manages to make him feel calmer.

He takes a shaky breath.

"Kinda expected you to name him after Glenn."

Maggie gives a soft chuckle. "Well, I _did_ with the Rhee part. But Glenn and I decided on the name right after we found out. Hershel Shawn if it was a boy; Elizabeth Joann if it was a girl."

Oh, and there goes Daryl's heart again. Paul's arm is now fully around his waist. He shared the story of Beth one night while sitting in lawn chairs outside of the trailer. How he had felt the need to protect this bright, beautiful girl who had somehow managed to remain hopeful in such a dark world. How he had opened up to her more than anyone else (before Paul, anyway). How it had all ended.

At the time, Paul seemed a little awkward as he asked if Daryl had had feelings for Beth. This was before he had come out to Paul.

"Nah. She was like a kid sister. But she looked up to me. Helped me realize I was important beyond tracking and killin' critters and walkers." That, in turn, led to Daryl talking about Sophia and Glenn. Daryl cried that night over how many times he'd failed the ones he loves, and Paul hugged him for the first time and talked about his own shortcomings and insecurities.

Daryl notices that he's put his arm around Paul as well without realizing it. Everyone else in the room seems to notice though, and they're all giving each other the most conspicuous knowing smirks of all time.

Harlan clears his throat and Daryl jumps a little, but doesn't remove his arm. His face is burning.

"Well, I think it's time I take little Hershel and get him examined. He appears perfectly healthy, but I still want to get him cleaned up, weighed, and measured." Maggie seems disappointed to let go of Hershel, but Doc assures her he will have the baby back in half an hour.

"I'll keep watch over Maggie," Carol says. Enid protests a little, but Carol insists she needs her rest and Enid can come back in the morning. She shoos Daryl and Paul out of the room as well.

"Go. I'll be fine. You two need...some space." Her eyes twinkle and she looks downright giddy. Damn that woman. He instinctively wants to stay there in protest, or maybe out of pure embarrassment, but then he feels Paul's soft lips against his ear.

"Let's go." And _fuck_ if he doesn't get a little hard right there. He lets the man guide him to the door and hears Maggie call out "Have a good night!" and giggling as he shuts the door behind him.

Paul pretty much drags him from Barrington to his trailer and Daryl follows in a bit of a fog. What a crazy fucking day. It seems like years ago that he woke up wrapped around Paul, and now there's a new life in the world and he feels ready to start his.

They get to the trailer door and Paul stops so abruptly, Daryl almost runs into him. "...You okay?" he asks and puts his hand on Paul's shoulder. The man spins around and grabs his shirt. He presses their foreheads together and speaks against Daryl's mouth.

"Are you sure about this? Because this isn't a casual thing for me. This is...this is _everything_ , Daryl. You don't know how long I've thought about this and wanted it and...if it's just a lark, or a bit of fun on your part, I don't think I could take it. I really don't." Paul's hands relax a bit and he sags into Daryl. "So please, just...let me know right now. Because if this happens, there's no going back for me."

Daryl doesn't know what to say, because Paul's thoughts echo his so completely. "Me, too," doesn't sound like enough. "Marry me" might be a little too much at this stage. Words aren't appropriate right now, so Daryl settles for closing the distance between their mouths.

Daryl feels electricity spark all around him and heat shoot down his spine. Paul's lips are like low-hanging fruit in their fullness and softer than Daryl would've believed possible. He gives a few gentle pecks at first, a bit nervous about his technique. Then Paul's mouth opens a bit and he touches his tongue to Daryl's and the man is absolutely lost. Daryl's cock is already hard and it gives a hopeful pulse in response to the tongue sweeping against his own. He groans helplessly and cups his hand against the back of Paul's head as he deepens the kiss. He feels Paul's hands tangle in his hair as he gives a broken sort of moan. The sound cuts something in Daryl and he presses Paul against the trailer door, desperate to be closer, as close as he possibly can. Paul is hard too and they rub against one another as they kiss, both seeking friction that is made impossible by the angle and layers of clothing.  
Daryl isn't sure if they kiss for minutes or hours, but when they part he feels like he's a light breeze from coming in his pants like a damn teenager.

“Wow," he says, his voice raspy.

Paul pants like he's run a marathon. "I know."

Daryl looks him up and down for a moment and pins him against the door once again and licking into his mouth. Paul whimpers- actually _whimpers_ and grabs Daryl's hips, pulling him flush against him.

He is thinking that they need to get inside before they have actual sex against the door when he hears a whistle. He breaks from Paul and turns around, seeing Dante walk by, obviously on his way to visit the new mother.  _Shit_.

Before he has enough time to be embarrassed, Paul's hand on the side of his face brings him back.

"Let's go inside."

Daryl swallows thickly, anticipation and need and fear coalescing into an almost tangible thing in him.

He takes a breath and says the only thing he can in this moment.

" _Yes_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't talk about pushing out afterbirth and all that stuff. I prefer the edited version of giving birth for this story. Also the potential middle name if Hershel was a girl comes from a combo of Maggie's mother and stepmother's names. 
> 
> The chapter title is from episode 10 of Yuri on Ice.
> 
> Also...smut is immiment.


	11. Let's Get Physical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Paul finally get to express their feelings physically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience! I had to take a break for the desus sadfic contest and it drained me of my happy smut feels for a bit. Back at it again, I hope this isn't the worst thing ever. Comments and kudos always welcome! Enjoy.

As he follows Paul into his trailer, Daryl feels more awkward than he probably should for a man who was just pawing another man against his own door. He's suddenly a little scared about how he should proceed. Paul seems undaunted, though. Their hands are clasped as he guides Daryl quickly to the bed.

They stop beside it, and Paul turns around, looking deeply into Daryl's eyes. He gives a small, almost uncertain, smile before snaking his arms around Daryl's neck.

"Hi."

"Hey." Daryl feels really fucking silly right now. His cock is a hard ridge in his jeans, pressing uncomfortably against the zip. Paul's answering erection is tenting his pants. And they're having small talk, apparently. Is this normal? Daryl has never had normal before. Just a few obligatory hookups with women to shut Merle up, but there was never talking. Or smiling. Or even much kissing. It was more like a less-than-pleasant business transaction. _Sometimes it was_ literally _a business transaction_ , he thinks, remembering the few hookers Merle sent his way.

And now there are arms around him and a mouth that is starting to leave warm presses against the side of his neck and _oh_. Daryl's head lolls to the side, Paul's lips unbelievably soft and wet. He hears a guttural groan and realizes it was him. He's humiliated, but Paul simply moans in return and begins to nibble. Fucking _hell_. This man will be the death of him.

Daryl clears his throat, trying to get some semblance of control over the situation. "Was gonna seduce you, ya know. You're just throwing all my romantic plans out the window now."

Paul pulls away with raised eyebrows. "Oh, _really_?" he says with a flirtatious smirk. "I should count myself lucky then, Daryl Dixon. You're quite the catch."

Daryl blushes and drops his gaze. Paul uses his hand to tip Daryl's chin back upward and his eyes are impossibly soft.

"What did this seduction entail, if I may ask?"

Daryl's blush deepens. He was all over this guy not two minutes ago and now he feels desperately shy. Paul's hands move to his back once again, and his fingertips gently trace up and down. Daryl shivers and blurts out: "Cheap-ass wine and Twinkies."

A laugh bursts out of Paul and Daryl follows suit before he can help it. "Hey I got beef jerky too. And I brought ya more books. Even found a romantic sex one 'bout a couple of guys." Paul laughs harder and that sets Daryl off and soon, they're standing in the tiny trailer with tears streaming down their faces and sore stomachs.

"I know it ain't really romantic, but I wanted to try. Wanted to do something nice." Daryl's smile drops, just a little.

Paul immediately turns serious. "Daryl, it is _so_ romantic. It's the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. I'm only laughing because...well, the end of the world sort of limits options. Also because I really didn't realize you were the romantic type. It's kind of adorable, if I'm being honest."

Daryl chews his lip and gives Paul a teasing smile. "Can you not use that word? Kinda kills my street cred."

Paul's eyes twinkle. "Oh, of _course_ it does, how could I ever suggest otherwise? You're Daryl Dixon, badass lone wolf who drives a cool motorcycle and is married to your crossbow." he gives Daryl a teasing kiss. "Nothing adorable about that." He moves his hand to the bulge in Daryl's pants and rubs. Daryl's eyes fall shut in pleasure. "Or that."

Paul's hand on his erection sets Daryl off and they're furiously making out again, both moaning and panting and pawing at each other as they fall onto the bed, Paul landing on his back with Daryl hovering over him.

"What..do you..want to do?" Paul manages between kisses.

Daryl is out of his element and Paul clearly knows. He's putting the ball in Daryl's court to decide what happens tonight. Hot little fucker is so respectful, what he would like to do is fuck Paul hard into the mattress. But he doesn't think he's going to last long enough to make that a possibility, at least not tonight. Paul probably already knows that; he doesn't appear to have any expectation in his eyes. Just raw desire.

"I just....I wanna touch you. And I want you to touch me. That okay? For the first time?"

Paul moans and rolls Daryl over so that he's on top. "That sounds perfect." Paul makes quick work of his own shirt and Daryl's then begins to unbuckle Daryl's belt. Daryl can do little more than stare in awe as Paul practically does a tablecloth trick with his pants and boxers, they come off so fast. He can't help but smirk a little.

"Eager, ain't ya?"

Paul flushes prettily. "Sorry, just been thinking about this for months." He looks down at Daryl's straining erection. "Nice dick, by the way." Now it's Daryl's turn to blush and Paul laughs and gives it a teasing little stroke and that has no right to feel as incredible as it does. Daryl gasps softly at the sensation of Paul touching him, _finally_ , of the two of them having actually made it to where they are now. This entire situation would've seemed impossible even a few weeks ago. But here they are.

Paul is still half dressed. Daryl decides to change that. He grips the other man's hips for a moment and Paul bites his lip. Daryl proceeds to divest Paul of his pants and underwear as fast as possible. He doesn't quite manage the tablecloth magic Paul did earlier, but he makes quick work of it. After a few moments, Paul is completely naked and settling once again atop Daryl's thighs. His cock is hard and flushed, pointing upward proudly. He's not as thick as Daryl, but he's longer, the tip glistening with a drop of precum.

Fuck, Daryl is nervous. He knows he shouldn't be; their kissing has gone pretty fantastically so far, and there's no reason to think sex won't be the same. But his lack of experience will certainly be obvious to Paul. He doesn't want to be disappointing.

"Hey." Daryl snaps out of his thoughts to see Paul smiling softly at him. "Get out of your head. I want this. So do you." He lowers his upper body so they're flush against one another again and gives him a quick kiss. "This is right. Just let it happen."

Daryl's hands may or may not be trembling as he wraps his arms around Paul, grabs two handfuls of his ass, and thrusts Paul against him, their dicks creating a delicious friction. Paul gasps and begins rolling on top of Daryl's body. Both of their cocks quickly grow slick from a combination of precum and sweat. Daryl arches upward with a soft cry. Fuck, this is perfect. Paul presses down with his hips and undulates against him. 

“ _Ah_! God, Daryl...feels so good."

Daryl mouths at Paul's neck as best he can and moans in an affirmative. God, this is not going to take long at all.

The sounds must encourage Paul, because he begins to thrust a little faster, their cocks sliding against each other. Daryl's body is quivering now as Paul's hips roll. He can feel both of their thighs shaking.

"Kiss me," he manages. Paul does, his tongue doing dirty things in Daryl's mouth as they move against each other. He's losing his capacity for speech, moaning nonsense into Paul's mouth as he feels himself growing close to the edge.

Paul appears to be in the same boat, though, and isn't that wonderful? That he can make him feel this good? He's crying out into Daryl's open mouth as he uses one hand to wrap around them both as he grinds.

"Oh _fuck_. Paul, yes, please!"

Paul pulls at both of their cocks quickly, his face a picture of ecstasy. Daryl slides one of his hands down past Paul's ass and caresses his balls, which are high and tight.

Paul's breath hitches and his cries grow higher in pitch. And just like that, hearing Paul nearing orgasm is enough to push Daryl over.

His hips flex and he cries out "P-Paul!" as he comes, bursts of pleasure washing over him, sensation so intense it's almost too much. His eyes had dropped shut of their own accord during orgasm, and as Daryl comes back to himself, he sees that Paul is sitting up watching him, a look of awe and pure love on his face.

"Get down here," Daryl says, wrapping his arms around Paul and pulling him down once more. He runs a hand through the slick mess on his stomach and wraps it around Paul's cock, jerking him in quick, tight pulls. He suddenly feels confident, and part of him actually wants to tease Paul a bit, but the other man is too far gone. It would be cruel. _Maybe next time_.

It takes less than a minute for Paul to reach orgasm, his hands fluttering and clenching at Daryl's shoulders as Daryl pulls his pleasure from him. Paul says Daryl's name as he comes, his eyes open but unseeing, glazed over and euphoric. Fuck, he didn't know Paul could look like that. He wants to see it again as soon as possible.

Paul collapses onto Daryl as he comes down, both of them breathing hard. Paul lifts his head and kisses all over Daryl's face. "I can't believe you're actually mine," he says as they roll to their sides and Paul wraps his arms around Daryl possessively. Daryl loves it. Feeling kept by someone. It feels good.

"You're mine too." He really wishes he were better with words sometimes.

"Mhmm, I want that wine and Twinkies tomorrow," he slurs, and damn if Paul ain't half asleep already.

Daryl thinks about cleaning them up a little, but can't be bothered right now. Being wrapped up in Paul just feels too good. They can shower later. Preferably together.

Paul's breath slowly evens out and his grip on Daryl relaxes. Daryl watches him sleep for a few minutes, marveling at how he got here and wondering what the future will bring. But exhaustion proves too much and the serene rhythm of Paul beside him soon has Daryl following him into slumber.

 


	12. Boyfriend of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl wants to do something nice for Paul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers as always! I hopefully will be able to update again in another week or so.

Daryl awakens hot and itchy and far less sated than he should be given the previous evening's activities. The reason why becomes clear moments later when Paul, buried beneath the blankets, licks a long stripe up his dick. Clearly, Daryl is in a relationship with some sort of sex addict, it cannot have been more than 6 hours since they fell asleep; it's still dark out. Yet Paul is under there, taking Daryl into his mouth and humming around him like he's been wanting it for ages and Daryl's cock is some sort of fuckin' decadent sundae.

Daryl can do little more than garble out nonsense and hold a handful of long, silky hair as Paul quickly takes him apart with hot, tight pulls of his mouth. He cries out and spills minutes later as Paul takes him deep and swallows around him. Paul crawls up his body, takes Daryl's hand that was in his hair and uses it to jerk himself off until he shoots onto Daryl's chest and stomach with a shudder and gasp. Paul collapses onto the sticky mess between them and nuzzles his face into Daryl's neck.

"Um...wow," Daryl says. He feels more than hears Paul's answering chuckle. The breath tickles his neck and makes him shiver.

"Yeah. I guess I'm a little pent-up."

"A little?"

Paul laughs again. "Okay, maybe a little more than a little. Sorry."

"No need to be sorry. I ain't complaining." He grimaces as Paul rolls off of him and the come drying on his torso makes a squelching sound. "A shower would be good though."

"Still dark out. We could sleep a few more hours first," Paul says it like a question but he's already wrapping himself around Daryl like a wiry little barnacle and tucking his face back into the crook of Daryl's neck. Clearly, Paul is a cuddler. Daryl absolutely loves it but would die before saying it out loud, at least not to anyone but Paul himself. He would never live down the embarrassment he'd experience if he admitted how good it feels to be physically close in this way. It's not even the sex; just the intimacy and everything that comes along with it. He feels safe. Protected. Cherished. That last word makes his face heat because it sounds so dramatic and overly emotional. But any doubt Daryl may have ever had about Paul's feelings dissipated completely the night of Daryl's dream. The night they first held one another.

Daryl has always loved the touches and hugs his family would give him. Rick's pats on the shoulder and handshakes and the occasional hug. Hugs from Michonne, Tara, Aaron and the others. And Carol's tight holds and forehead kisses went without saying. Back at the farm when he'd gotten shot, he'd flinched away from her touch because he wasn't expecting it and didn't know what the hell to do about it. He wasn't used to being touched in comfort and love instead of pain. But it was after that that Daryl realized how much he had craved it. He would fall into touch the way a flower turns toward the sun. But until Paul, the touches remained entirely platonic and lacked the sort of intimacy he's currently experiencing.

All at once, Daryl wonders if this is how Paul feels too. Maybe he's spent his life wanting this same kind of intimacy and now he's soaking it up. It hurts Daryl to imagine Paul ever being lonely. He's got the biggest, most open heart Daryl has ever seen. It feels like a horrible injustice to imagine him without some sort of meaningful companionship.

Daryl really doesn't feel tired anymore, but he's pretty sure there's no way he's going to separate himself from the spider monkey currently clinging to him. In the few minutes Daryl has been thinking, Paul has _already_ fallen asleep again. He wonders if it's always like this for him after sex. Daryl thinks for a moment and decides that he doesn't mind if that's the case, Paul is completely adorable to look at right now. He hopes the grin on his face isn't too dopey. At least no one is there to witness it. After a half hour or so of letting his sleeping boyfriend ( _boyfriend?_ ) have his way with him, Daryl notices the sky outside the trailer lightening and begins to extricate himself from Paul carefully, not wanting to wake him just yet.

He knows the farmhand Gretchen will already be awake and likely Carol as well. An idea begins to brew in his head. Probably a terrible one, but an idea nevertheless.

**********************

Daryl convinces Gret to give him half a dozen fresh eggs by promising her first dibs of non-essentials on his next run. He is wholly unsurprised to find Carol in the Barrington kitchen, rolling dough and joking with a half-awake and unamused Enid.

Carol's eagle eyes land on him the moment he enters.

"Morning, Sunshine."

Daryl mumbles a "Mornin'" back and hopes his face isn't too red. From Carol's amused expression, though, he isn't counting on it.

"Enid, run and get some eggs, would you?"

Daryl holds his small carton from Gret up "Um, I've got-"

"But we need _more_. Enid, would you?" The girl nods and gives them a mildly suspicious look on her way out. Daryl is kicking himself for going to see Carol in the first place. He should've known she would be all over him about the night before. But other than frying up critters, he's never been much of a cook, and he wants to bring Paul a nice breakfast. And to do that, he needs help. And, predictably, the only one currently around to help is his meddling, eyebrow-wagging, too-clever-by-half best friend.

Daryl passes Carol the eggs silently, keeping his head down and clearing his throat. Carol is not having it. She grabs a round tool of some sort from the countertop and cuts the rolled dough into biscuits. She gets them buttered and into the oven within about 30 seconds and sets a timer before turning her attention fully to Daryl.

"Okay. Spill," she says.

There's no point in faking ignorance, but Daryl does it anyway. "Whatcha mean?"

She just stares at him, waiting for a real response. Damn this woman. She could pry open pickle jars with no more than a look. Carol begins to crack the eggs Daryl brought, one by one, into a sizzling pan, never taking her eyes off of him.

"If you want me to make your boyfriend breakfast, you'd best get talking."

Of course she knows exactly why he's here. Daryl isn't sure why he still lets anything Carol does surprise him. He knows her better than almost anyone, has seen the highs and lows she is capable of, yet she still manages to throw him for a loop sometimes.

Daryl finally breaks. "Yes, okay?"

Carol lets out the closest thing to a girlish giggle he's ever heard out of her and squeezes his arm in delight. "I knew it! It's about damn time, too," she says, flipping the eggs with precision and glancing into the oven at the progress of the biscuits.

"How was everything?"

God, this woman obviously did not understand boundaries where his love life was concerned! Daryl is too happy to care a whole lot. He hopes he doesn't sound too giddy when he responds, "It was perfect. Um...both times."

Carol actually looks a little surprised at that, probably less at the information itself and more at the fact that Daryl is willingly sharing it. And more than just surprised, Carol looks...impressed, somehow. Like she wasn't sure Daryl had it in him to both be intimate with someone and actually talk about it, however briefly.

Her look clears moments later and she smiles. "Well, I'm happy for you. But you do realize that you just left the person you love alone the morning after your first-or, second-time? What if he wakes up and you're not there?"

Daryl is momentarily horrified. He hasn't been gone long and it's barely light out, but what if Carol's right? He doesn't want Paul waking up, thinking he was having regrets or doubts. He's just trying to... _try_. He wants to show that he can do the relationship thing. He can be a good boyfriend, partner, whatever. Even if he needs to make someone else cook for him. He will eventually learn, he vows silently. More importantly right now, he needs to get back to the trailer-and quickly. At that moment, the oven timer dings. Carol plates the over-easy eggs and biscuits and shoves both plates into Daryl's hands.

"No fresh orange juice today, but here," she says as she drops a small jug of milk into his shirt pocket. "Now get back to your man."

Daryl kisses her cheek. "I owe you one."

Carol smirks. "Yeah, from the sound of it, you're going to owe me two. Maybe even _three_."

"God, stop!" Daryl practically runs out the door, Carol's laughter pealing behind him. He quickly makes his way to the trailer and eases his way inside as quietly as possible.

Paul hasn't moved. He's still out like a light, as peaceful as ever, and Daryl is practically sweating from the stress now. He feels a bit foolish at his worry, but he supposes it's better to be a fool than to risk Paul waking up alone and feeling bad or worried. Now Daryl feels a little stupid waking him up, he's so serene and it still can't be any later than six. But he can't just let the food go cold, not when he (Carol) went to all this trouble.

Daryl sets the plates and milk on the table and walks over to the bed.

"Paul," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Blue-green eyes snap open to meet his instantly. _How does he do that?_ Daryl marvels.

Paul yawns sleepily and smiles softly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just...I brought breakfast," he answers shyly.

Paul practically leaps out of the bed and makes a beeline for the table. "Oh thank God, I am _starving_ ," he says, immediately picking up a biscuit and gnawing on it. Daryl watches in amusement as he devours three eggs, two biscuits and half the milk. He's practically licked his plate clean and has begun eyeing Daryl's when he seems to actually notice that Daryl is still standing. Paul looks a little abashed. "I'm sorry. The last couple of days have been crazy, I've hardly eaten and...well, we've sort of exerted ourselves a little," he says, his face pinking.

God, he is so cute! Daryl just wants to squeeze him. The best part is, Paul doesn't even seem to realize how irresistible he can be.

"You know, if I just met you, I would probably think that all you do is eat, sleep, and fuck. Like some sort of deranged energizer bunny." He and Paul laugh as Daryl sits at the table and scrapes one of his eggs and biscuits onto Paul's empty plate, finally tucking into his own breakfast. They really are a lot alike, Daryl thinks, noting how he himself eats like it's going out of style sometimes.

Paul inhales the other egg and biscuit. "That's not really that far from the truth. Most of my life, I've been on the go. Long before the world ended. The meals were sometimes few and far between. The free time to sleep was probably even less. I kind of conditioned myself to sleep when I could and eat whatever was available." He smiles at Daryl like he's only just realizing something. "Two nights ago, when I came home and you were in my bed, was the first time I slept peacefully in years. It happened last night too. I actually feel rested for once." Paul's smile looks a little sad now, but he continues, "And as fast as I ate it, this is the first meal I remember really tasting, and enjoying, in a long time."

Daryl scoots Paul's chair over to him and pulls the other man into his lap, the remains of his breakfast long forgotten.

"You brighten everything up, Daryl. It's like my senses are more attuned to the world with you in it. You add color, and sound, and taste, and touch to my life. And peace. It's all better with you. It's all _more_ with you."

Daryl can't take it anymore and he pulls Paul into a sweet kiss, pouring all of his feeling into it. He knows that at some point, he will be able to articulate things a little better than he can now, but he's never going to be able to speak the way Paul can. The man is a damn poet. But at least he can show how he feels. The kissing grows heated quickly and Daryl is gearing up for round three when Paul pulls away from the kiss and stands up. Daryl does not whine at the break in contact, not at all.

"We can't." Paul actually sounds pretty disappointed about it.

"Why?" Daryl asks, not whining.

"Because we are disgusting."

"It's not like more come is going to get us dirtier. I think how much spunk we have dried on us don't much matter no more." Daryl is really pushing the point, wanting Paul back in his lap again.

Paul rolls his eyes. "Yeah I know that, but we have to visit Maggie and Hershel. Plus Carol said last night that Morgan was going to Alexandria to let everyone know so they're going to be here pretty soon too."

Daryl makes a pouty face, but relents. If they have sex again, he's pretty sure Paul will be conked out until noon.

"Fine," he says.

Paul smiles and his eyes gleam, pleased as fucking punch at having gotten his way. This better not be the start of a pattern. Little shit.

Paul takes Daryl's hand and leads him to the bathroom. "Come shower with me."

Daryl realizes soon after, as Paul's slippery hand jerks him to completion, that maybe letting him have his way is not such a bad thing after all.


	13. Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy bonding with baby and team family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 3 weeks since an update and I feel like a shit! Being super busy and having a lack of motivation is a deadly combination. 
> 
> This story is starting to wind down, though there will probably be another coulple of chapters. I also might turn it into multiple parts if I want to continue the universe further. 
> 
> I've recently started to ship Gabriel and Rosita in addition to Tara and Rosita but I've already committed to Rositara in this story, sorry Gabe! 
> 
> As always I appreciate every kudos and comment I receive. Thanks for reading!

When Daryl and Paul finally get to Maggie's open door, an tiny but furious cry is the first thing to greet them.

 

"Someone's awake," Paul says with twinkling eyes.

 

Maggie grins. "He's just happy to see you both." She passes the wriggling ball to Paul first and he cottons on immediately. Hershel is no longer only wearing a blanket. He has been dressed in a tiny onesie with a cartoon monkey adorning the chest. Hershel's fists are clenched and his face is an angry shade of red. Paul is smiling at the baby like he's never seen anything more wonderful. It's adorable if Daryl is honest with himself, but he would never admit that out loud.

 

He must be staring pretty hard if Maggie's snort in his direction is any indication. Daryl clears his throat and sharply glares at Maggie's suddenly innocent expression for a brief moment. Man, he loves her, but she needs to stop putting her nose in unwanted places.

 

Daryl never had the desire to have children of his own before, but hell if the sight of Paul holding and cooing at Hershel and doesn't stir something base and primal within him. The twin miracles of new life and being in love are in the same place and Daryl barely resists the urge to pull both into his arms. Maggie is looking at Paul now, joy evident on her face.

 

Paul is grinning and his eyes are soft and shiny. "He's really beautiful, Maggie. Just perfect."

 

"Thank you." She glances at Daryl again and nods in his direction. "Now you."

 

Daryl ever so slightly panics when Paul passes Hershel over. He's held Li'l Asskicker hundreds of times and held Littler Asskicker for a moment last night, but man, is he ever tiny. Daryl feels bulkier than usual. Paul's eyes are full of reverence at seeing him hold the newborn. He's staring hard, possibly harder than Daryl stared at him a couple of minutes ago. He gives a tiny smirk and drops his eyes onto Hershel.

 

The baby has stopped crying and is looking at Daryl with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment. Daryl has seen that exact expression on Glenn's face before. It makes his heart both lift and sink. He's so... _miraculous_. Hershel's eyes scrunch shut as he yawns briefly and then pop open again as he returns his gaze to Daryl. Damn, this baby was emotionally manipulative. He wasn't fuckin' around when it came to being a cute little shit.

 

In spite of his best efforts to the contrary, Daryl can feel his face split into a giddy smile. He swipes a hand through the dark fluff adorning the top of Hershel's head and marvels at how soft it is. He's just so _new_. The world is full of bumps and bruises, pocks and scars, and this tiny life has none of that yet. He's completely flawless. He rocks gently back and forth.

 

"Hey, buddy," Daryl says softly as he tickles a finger against the back of the infant's hand (he definitely doesn't coo, or baby talk, and dammit his voice _doesn't_ sound high pitched). "Welcome to the next world." Hershel listens intently, grabbing onto Daryl's offered finger and squeezing it. "Your cousin Judith is going to be so excited to meet you. And you've got a big family who all loves you so much. You're gonna grow up big and strong. I'm sure of it."

 

Hershel struggles to keep his drooping eyes open as Daryl speaks and rocks him, but he loses the fight quickly, his fist relaxing around Daryl's finger and his eyes sliding shut as he does what babies do best. He watches Hershel sleep a few moments longer, suddenly feeling self-conscious as he remembers he's not alone in the room.

 

Risking a glance upward, Daryl is met with wide, blue-green orbs looking at him in wonder. Paul looks gobsmacked at the sight of Daryl holding a baby. If he were to guess, Daryl thinks Paul holds a similar expression to his own from earlier. He looks like a man in love.

 

Before Daryl can say or do anything, before he can pass Hershel back to his staring mother, Paul's hands are on his face and his mouth is pressing insistently against Daryl's own. He can do little but kiss back and try not to crush the baby. Maggie needs to clear her throat at least a few times before they break apart for air.

 

Daryl thinks he should feel more abashed about this. He doesn't. He's just happy.

 

Maggie's brows are raised but she's smiling. "You know, there are a lot of empty rooms in Barrington."

 

Paul ducks his head but Daryl can only laugh. He really has become one of those gross people who need to get a room because they can't keep their hands off of their lover. He never in a million years thought that would be him. But to be fair, he never expected most of humanity to turn into flesh eating monsters either. He supposes falling in love and showing it isn't any less believable.

 

Daryl passes the sleeping Hershel back to his mother and returns to Paul's side. He feels the other man's hand slide into his own and his own fingers give a squeeze. "Do you know what time we are expecting everyone?"

 

He words prove prophetic when several excited voices become audible in the hallway outside Maggie's bedroom. There's a gentle knock and her answer of "come in" before the door swings open and a mess of people pour into the room. Morgan is first, followed by Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith. Then Tara, Rosita, Father Gabriel, Aaron, Eric, Francine, and Tobin. Zeke, Jerry, Carol, Dante, and Enid bring up the rear. It's a good thing the rooms at Barrington are large because the space around Maggie's bed has turned into a damn town meeting, everyone crying and laughing and chatting excitedly. Michonne gets the honors of holding Hershel first and tears leave tracks down her cheeks the moment he's in her arms. Rick stands beside her and rubs her back as he speaks softly to the baby.

 

Daryl's surprised Hershel can manage to sleep through all this chaos but he does, not stirring as he's passed from person to person while everyone else chats with one another and gives Maggie congratulatory hugs and kisses. Daryl and Paul had moved off to the side when everyone came in, so it takes a while for anyone to even notice they're in the room, which is okay with Daryl. Rick spots them first, grinning and coming over immediately.

 

"I see congratulations are in order for more than just Maggie," he says, nodding at their clasped hands. Daryl had kind of forgotten about it; holding hands with Paul felt so natural, he did it without really thinking. He feels a little exposed, but not embarrassed, and he certainly doesn't want to let go of Paul and make him feel insecure, so he just smiles and nods at Rick instead.

 

"I guess so."

 

Rick pulls Daryl into a hug and he has to let go, then, in order to return it. They break apart and the Rick is crushing Paul in an embrace too, the other man's face showing pleasant surprise at the gesture as he hugs back.

 

It doesn't take long for the crowd to start gathering around him and Paul now, everyone hugging and patting him on the back and giving congratulations. Like having a relationship was such an amazing feat. Now Daryl was starting to feel embarrassed. A woman not ten feet away had just pushed a human out of her own body a day ago and everyone is acting like him having a boyfriend was just as exciting.

 

Maybe for them, it was. Most of them probably never expected Daryl to be with anyone in that way. He'd never shown a real desire to be before Paul came along. He felt attractions but always ignored or repressed them. It wasn't difficult to do since most of the men he was around were stick straight or unavailable or both. But that was something Daryl could never really do with Paul. It just didn't work. Even before the flirting or knowing Paul was into guys or being more than antagonistic acquaintances with him, Daryl could never deny his attraction to the man. It radiated off of him in waves. Makes sense that not one person he knew exhibited any real surprise at his move to the Hilltop and all of them seemed to know his real motivation. Daryl guesses that maybe it is a big deal and he should feel proud instead of embarrassed. On instinct, he snakes an arm around Paul'a waist and pulls him closer as his ridiculous family gushes.

 

Gabriel moves back to Maggie's bedside to give Hershel a quick blessing and offers to baptize him once his exhausted mother is back on her feet. She accepts gratefully and Paul and Daryl share a secret smile. They'd found a baptismal gown while on a run a couple of months back and they had to get it, knowing how important Maggie's faith was to her. Daryl knows she's going to be touched by the gesture and is itching to go to the trailer and get it right now, but he wants it to be a surprise when the actual time comes.

 

Carol soon picks up her drill sergeant mantle and kicks everyone out of the room, saying Maggie needs her rest and the community lunch will be ready soon. Enid kisses Maggie's cheek and promises to bring food right back up as everyone files out of the room and down toward the dining area, sitting down at a long table. There's friendly chatter all around as everyone who's been separated catches up, but Daryl is happy to just observe quietly.

 

Paul suddenly elbows him in the ribs and nods across the table. As he looks, Daryl realizes he's not the only one who has gotten his shit together. Tara and Rosita are kissing tenderly, completely unaware of anyone around them. Michonne see the men noticing and gives an expression that is half smile, half grimace.

 

"It's been constant. And I mean _constant_." She starts digging into the soup that's been served and her expression softens. "Rick said to go easy on them, because it's basically their honeymoon."

 

"Yeah, and because the two of you did the exact same thing not so long ago," Daryl says.

 

Michonne points her spoon in his direction. "Hush." She smiles. "They're talking about kids if you'd believe it." Daryl doesn't find it that surprising, even if it is a bit quick. He knows Tara was really close to her niece, she's spoken to him about Megan several times. And as non-traditional as Rosita may seem at times, it doesn't surprise him in the least that she'd want to be a mom.

 

"Are they looking for surrogates?" Paul asks.

 

"That or male volunteers," Michonne says pointedly.

 

Daryl chokes on his soup a little. "Don't look at us!"

 

Paul shrugs. "I'd do it."

 

Daryl gapes. "You serious?"

 

"Why not?"

 

"Well...I mean...you're gay!"

 

Paul laughs and puts a hand on his cheek. "Daryl, it's a pretty common thing for gay men to help their lesbian friends reproduce."

 

"I'm bisexual," Rosita pops up. And shit, now the conversation is attracting attention.

 

"Semantics in this case. You're with a woman and want a baby. I mean...it's something everyone involved would have to seriously think about first, but if you two really need help, I'm happy to."

 

Daryl is flabbergasted. "Can't Doc just use...I dunno, a turkey baster or something?!" Rick spits out his drink laughing and Carl puts his hands over his ears and shakes his head.

 

"You've got one jealous boyfriend, Jesus," Tara says with a grin.

 

"Don't I know it."

 

"I _ain't_ jealous."

 

Tara rolls her eyes. "Yeah right. Anyway Daryl, it's not something we're really thinking about at this point. We had one brief conversation one time about maybe having a child years from now." She looks at Michonne. "But someone is dramatic and has major baby fever herself-"

 

"I do _not_ have baby fever!"

 

The entire table scoffs at that, including Daryl and Paul. Even Zeke and Jerry roll their eyes. Every single one of them has been on the receiving end of Michonne's baby talk over the course of Maggie's pregnancy and witnessed her longing looks every time one of them would return from a run with something for the baby. No one could miss the way she was first to arrive at Maggie's bed when they visited and how she cried while holding Hershel.

 

On top of that, a couple women at the Hilltop are pregnant now, and Daryl remembers Rick mentioning that Tobin and Francine are trying.

 

Rick wanted to wait until Judith was out of diapers before a new addition, but she's started potty training recently, so Daryl knows it's only a matter of time before there will be a new baby Grimes.

 

He wonders about Aaron and Eric. Do they want kids? Maybe they could do some sort of swap meet kind of thing with Rosita and Tara. Get both women pregnant and then split the babies. Would that be weird? Daryl will ask Paul later if he's being inappropriate. He thinks he probably is.

 

After a few more minutes of ribbing between all of them, people begin to finish their lunch and scatter. Rick and Zeke plan to visit Maggie's room again for an actual meeting between community leaders. Michonne, Carol, and Dante take Carl, Enid, and Judith to learn how to milk cows and how cheese and butter is made. Jerry and Morgan go to the blacksmith to get Jerry's battle ax sharpened. Daryl jokes about Morgan's stick needing a sharpening too and the man gives him a threatening look before smiling. Tobin and Francine are making use of one of the rooms in the house, and Rosita, Tara, and Gabe are walking the grounds and talking.

 

Daryl marvels at how _normal_ everything is. Old-timey, yes. But humans getting along fine, moving forward. business as usual. It amazes him how resilient people can be. How resilient _he_ can be. From a lonely, abused kid hiding out in a library reading a children's fantasy novel to a wayward loser teenager and adult, drifting through life with Merle, to a soldier with purpose and family and friends, to a partner of the greatest person he'd ever known. It was pretty damn incredible.

 

"What are you thinking?"

 

Daryl looks at Paul, but before he can answer, Aaron and Eric approach them.

 

"Hey," they say in unison, matching pleased smirks on their faces.

 

Instead of answering, Daryl hugs them both in unison. He wishes he could express to them how much it meant that they made him feel welcome and like he belonged. They were the first gay men he's ever spent significant time around, and they made him feel like he wasn't abnormal. Like maybe he could live a happy life, the way they did. He manages a small "thank you" before pulling away.

 

"You guys staying a while?" Paul asks.

 

"Just for the night along with everyone else from the RV," Aaron answers. "Anything fun going on?"

 

"Actually there's a rec room in the house and they do a movie night a lot. Not sure what the feature is tonight though. You should check it out."

 

"We will. Are you guys going too?"

 

Daryl nods. "Probably, since everyone is here. I'll spread the word around in a bit. But first, I want to talk to Paul for a minute in the trailer."

 

They give him a 'yeah right, _talk_ ' expression and say their goodbyes.

 

The thing is, Daryl really does want to talk. He's still got a few gifts to give to Paul. And a particular special thing to show him. He gathers his courage as they walk to the trailer together, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

 


	14. Baring it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing of desserts and a certain makeshift diary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been over a month since I updated. Hey, life, stop making me busy! I appreciate everyone hanging in there. I promise I am going to finish this story. Probably a couple more chapters to go at least. Haha I keep adding more as my original plan was 10. Despite what the title may imply, there is no smut to be had here; that's for next time. As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate every kudos, comment, bookmark I get!

Daryl is barely through Paul's door before he's being pressed back against it and kissed quite desperately. Pleased, he hums around a mouthful of Paul's tongue and lets the other man have his way with him for a bit. Before too long, though, Daryl breaks the kiss.

  
"Wait," he gasps.

  
"Don't wanna."

  
Daryl laughs. "Yeah, I can _tell_ ," he rubs a little at Paul's erection, earning him a soft moan. "But I want to seduce my boyfriend, and I've got the wine and dessert to do it."

  
Paul stiffens and for a moment, Daryl is afraid he's done something wrong, but then he echoes Daryl. "Boyfriend?"

  
Daryl flushes in embarrassment. "I know, it sounds so high school. Lover? Partner? Maybe those would be better."

  
"No!" Paul blurts out and now it's his turn to blush. "I...I like it. It's...good. Really good." His face is beet red at this point and Daryl falls a bit more in love by the second but all he can say back is "That's good."

  
He pulls away, gently, and walks to his pack that's been sitting for two days now. He unloads the bottles of wine and whiskey, beef jerky, slightly smushed twinkies, and reading material- apart from one thing. That's for a little later.

  
Pause expression is nothing short of amazement. Daryl looks at him, bemused, wondering if he doubted that Daryl had actually brought all these things back. It doesn't seem that strange to him. It seems pretty normal to do something like this for people that you love.

  
Paul begins to shake his head and let out a soft chuckle. "You are such a _romantic_ , Daryl Dixon. It's really a sight to behold."

  
"Shut it. I told you I got this shit already. Ain't a big deal."

  
Paul is grinning now, his eyes shiny and mirthful. "You told me, but half of me thought you might be kidding. Exaggerating anyway." Daryl scoffs. "I mean it," Paul continues, snaking his arms around Daryl's neck and nuzzling his jaw. "You have always been sexy to me Daryl. But this? You being all romantic?" Paul's breath huffs softly in Daryl's ear as he whispers, "Makes me wanna take your pants off right now."

  
Arousal drops instantly into Daryl's gut, hot and thick, and it takes all the willpower he has not to give in right that moment. Paul is currently running his tongue along the shell of Daryl's ear and his cock is pressing against his thigh. But Daryl wants to do this right, or as right as a redneck like him is able to. Try as he might though, he's not a complete angel. He lets Paul pant and grind against him for a few moments before capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss, wrapping his arms around the other man and grunting in surprise when Paul hops up and wraps his legs around Daryl's waist. Christ, it's hot. He is heavier than he looks, but still not a struggle to lift and it makes Daryl feel strong and protective and a little caveman-like, but it's sexy as hell.

  
Their tongues tangle and slide against one another and Paul lets out the most beautiful little _whimper_ Daryl has ever heard. _Fuck_. It's almost physically painful to part from him when he's like this, but Daryl manages to unhook Paul's legs and set him down.

  
"Soon," he promises when Paul whines at the loss of contact. "Come and eat with me."

  
They sit at the table and munch on the goodies, and all the while Paul is being a completely dramatic grump. For some reason it pleases Daryl. He's used to being the person everyone considers surly. Not that they're really wrong, he has what Carol sometimes refers to as "serious resting bitch face" and Rick sometimes asks why Daryl has to swallow the entire lemon instead of saving a squeeze for his iced tea (ha fuckin' ha).

  
Daryl prefers the term "stoic". It's much more complimentary.

  
At any rate, it's very rewarding to chow down on spongey cream-filled cakes and jerky and wine across from a small, pouty, but undeniably sexy man. Paul takes tiny bites chews furiously, almost reminding Daryl of one of squirrels he so loves to hunt. He politely sips the wine as he side eyes Daryl, soft eyes and smirks peeking through despite his best efforts to remain frustrated.

  
Meanwhile, Daryl takes huge, unsophisticated gulps of the Cabernet, more concerned with washing the snacks down than being a snob like Paul. Shit's good though, he's got to admit. And maybe his chugging of the wine has another motivation behind it.

  
Daryl's eyes slide to the pack on the floor beside him and the nerves twist in his stomach. Paul knows about everything else he's brought at this point. The wine, whiskey, generic convenience store munchies. The magazines. The King novel. Everything. Except for the book. _His_ book. Daryl wants Paul to see it. He's positive the man has to have read _A Wrinkle in Time_ before. He doesn't have a copy here; Daryl would've come across it by now. But he's read it. It fits so well into his intelligent hipster personality.

  
Paul hasn't read this version, though. This isn't a novel. This is a bunch of mostly already-filled pages that Daryl treated as his own personal diary. Everything is in there: his fears, his pain, his loneliness, the feelings he never wanted to tell anyone about. The things he loves about the book, the things he hates about himself. His rare happy childhood moments and his darkest thoughts. It's a slice of his own heart and soul, and he still doesn't know how he could've found it so many years after the fact, untouched and intact. Truth be told, he doesn't really care. It was some kind of fate.

  
This book did not come back into Daryl's possession for his own benefit. He moved on from that point in his life a long time ago. He became part of a family and a group of friends. He has a job now, even if he isn't paid in the traditional sense of the old society. He fell in love. He honest-to-God had completely new feelings hit him like a ton of bricks-in his 40s no less! Daryl didn't need this book anymore. For him, it's a part of him, but one he is grateful to tuck away as a memory. So, no, it didn't come for him. It came for him to give to Paul. It came to him as a way to give himself fully to the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. And that's just what he's about to do.

  
Daryl sees Paul watching him in his peripheral vision. He knows Daryl is looking at the backpack and an intense curiosity has slid over his features. _Well, I guess is now is as good a time as any_. They've already polished off the wine and Paul's about to open the whiskey, suddenly acting nervous, as though Daryl's bag is a highly volatile explosive that could detonate at any moment. Daryl quickly puts his hand over Paul's, which is currently wrapped around a bottle.

  
"Just hold off on that stuff, would ya?" Daryl asks. Paul instantly relaxes. Daryl toes the line between primal joy that Paul responds to him this way and terror that there's absolutely no excuse at this point. He needs to show himself to Paul completely.

  
As Daryl reaches into the pack and grasps the worn copy of _A Wrinkle in Time_ , he hopes that Paul will understand. He hopes Paul won't judge him. And he hopes this will make forever not only possible, but inevitable, between them. He forces himself to hold Paul's gaze as he passes it over, and if his hands are shaking as he does, Paul is kind enough not to mention it.

  
Paul glances at the book cover and his eyes immediately light up in recognition and disbelief. "Oh my God, Daryl! Where did you get this? How did you know? Did Maggie tell you?"

  
Confusion clouds Daryl's features. "Did Maggie tell me what?"

  
Paul laughs, now looking perplexed as well. "This was one of my favorite books as a kid. I used to read it all the time in the group home. Sometimes to myself, sometimes to the other kids." He hasn't opened the book yet, he's simply holding it in his hands and looking between it and Daryl, a somewhat thrilled expression on his face. Things have suddenly become a lot more complicated. Daryl had no idea Paul had a connection to the popular children's novel the way he does, and he definitely wasn't prepared for all of this.

  
Paul continues, undeterred. "I lost my copy when I left home after everything went down. I've been trying to get another, but I haven't been able to find one yet, even the couple times I've raided libraries. Everything is just too ransacked and out of order. Makes finding anything specific like looking for a needle in a haystack." He looks a bit sad at that. Daryl knows how much Paul loves to read, but he also knows that Paul is definitely what he would consider a book snob. He will read absolutely anything he can get his hands on simply because in the world they occupy, reading material is more and more hard to come by. However, his personal preferences are still very specific. Daryl can imagine Paul in a library or bookstore, upset at the lack of quality reading material, at least by his own assessment. And now, Daryl has brought something to read that Paul not only deems as good, but it actually means something to him. The pressure he feels increases tenfold in that moment. He doesn't quite know what to say, but he does his best to explain.

  
"I didn't know nothin' about that. Maggie never told me," Daryl pauses, awkward and unsure. "This is my favorite book. Or was, when I was a kid. And this is...this is actually my copy."

  
He sees the doubt in Paul's face. The man knows Daryl doesn't seem to read much and it's odd that he suddenly be in possession of an important thing he's never mentioned before. 

  
"No, it is," he explains simply. "I used to read a lot more, see. Dunno what to say, other than this-" Daryl looks Paul in the eyes and takes a deep breath before continuing:

  
"You know how messed up shit was for me when I was a kid. I told you 'bout what I went through, and you know where a lot of my...issues come from. But what you don't know is that I spent a lot of time in a local library in Georgia when I was young. Was a way to escape home, you know. I hunted, and I spent time outside, but I also went there."

  
Daryl pauses and Paul nods encouragingly. He wants to hear this. Reassured, he continues:

  
"I didn't ever take books home. Cuz I knew they'd get destroyed by my Pa. Instead, folks that worked there let me leave my checked out books at the library. _A Wrinkle in Time_ was the first book I read that really got to me. It actually left me feeling like I could escape my shitty life for a while." Paul's eyes look sad, but he says nothing, so Daryl continues. "Since I wouldn't never check them out, I always left the book there and they held it for me till I came back. One day, the book was just gone. Lost. But for a time there, it was kinda like a security blanket. It became mine. And over time, I made it mine more and more."

  
Paul is obviously doing his best to be understanding and supportive. He's listening intently, but the confused expression is taking over his features again.

  
Paul speaks carefully. "Daryl, if the library lost it, why do you have it now?"

 

"Short answer is I found it on my run. Long answer is I don't have no fuckin' clue."

 

"Wait. You said you made the book yours more and more. What does that mean?"

  
Daryl nods at the book in Paul's hands. "Please...just read it. I ain't never gonna be able to explain it. But...please, look at it and take some time with it. And...come talk with me after."

  
It's clear that Paul still has no idea what is happening, but he nods at Daryl's request and gives a kind smile. "I will. It's important to you, so it's important to me."

  
Paul is literally about to open the book while they are standing there and Daryl shrieks "Don't!" at an embarrassingly high pitch. He recovers quickly. "Just would rather you be in the other room is all."

  
Paul is definitely curious now as to what's happening, but he nods and walks toward the bedroom door of the trailer before glancing back at Daryl, questioning. Daryl nods back and gestures Paul through the door. The man starts to flip open the pages of the book as he's crossing the threshold and freezes for a moment before continuing the rest of the way and clicking the door shut behind him.

  
Daryl genuinely has no idea how long it will take things move forward for him. How long he will continue to be bogged down by insecurities and doubts sometimes. It may never fully go away. But he's not wasting any opportunity to secure a future worth having with someone he loves. He is stripping himself bare for this man. He knows it's worth it.

  
It might be a little while before Paul is finished reading. Daryl sits on the sofa, puts his feet up, and hums songs in his head and out loud. He can wait as long as it takes. It's not the first time he's had to wait for something, but he hopes this instance has the most positive result.

  
Daryl says a quick prayer to whomever might be listening that he and Paul will be forever on the same page starting tomorrow. And part of him wishes he hadn't made it so obvious that the writing in the book is his. That was the entire point of this, but it still ain't easy to give yourself away. There is no sound coming from the bedroom other than an occasional turn of a page. He wonders if Paul is actually reading the novel too or just what he wrote. Maybe Paul will read the book to him sometime now that they've got a copy. Daryl is still thinking about it as his humming subsides. He's still thinking about it as his head falls back and his eyes close. And as Daryl drifts off to sleep on the couch, the bedroom door still closed, and the silence in the trailer is complete.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pretty sure that Jesus' trailer doesn't have a bedroom per se, just a bed shoved into one corner. But for the sake of Paul reading Daryl's book in a separate place, I created a door. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Also quick FYI: Paul has a battery powered book light. I'm not one to usually put in details like that but I understand there are readers who like those details so there you go.


	15. Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little talking and a lot of sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp it's been a while again. I AM gonna finish this story dammit. Feel free to read 2.5k words of smut. And enjoy it. Hope everyone enjoys the holiday season if I'm not back before January! <3

> Daryl's dreams are fractured and frightening that night. He's searching for Paul- at the Hilltop, at Alexandria, at the Kingdom, and even at the tomb that is the Sanctuary. He's no where to be found. Daryl tries to call for him again and again but no sound emerges.
> 
> "Hey."
> 
> A voice drifts over him somewhere in the distance. Daryl whips around, trying to locate it. It sounds like Paul, but all Daryl can see is a fog.
> 
> "Hey, Daryl."
> 
> The voice is closer. He tries to respond but once again his voice is lost. He reaches out in what he thinks is the direction of the voice but grasps nothing.
> 
> "Daryl," the voice is sharper. "Wake up."
> 
> He awakens with a gasp and nearly throws Paul off of him. The other man is straddling him where he's sitting on the couch, which is a bit embarrassing considering Daryl didn't immediately wake up when he got a lapful of gorgeous man. He must've really been out. And God, his neck is going to be stiff for a few days with the way he was resting it.
> 
> "Whoa, there." Paul's hands are on his chest. "You must've been dreaming. You were kind of moving and jumping a little in your sleep. And it didn't seem like the good kind of moving. You okay?"
> 
> Daryl nods, then says "Just couldn't find you, is all."
> 
> "Well, I'm here."
> 
> Daryl runs his hands along Paul's waist, confirming he's indeed real. Wait, if Paul is there, it means he finished-
> 
> "The book." Daryl feels any previous bravery leave him. Should he ask what Paul thinks? Should he explain what it was about? Does he really have to? Should be pretty self-explanatory, he thinks. Paul's eyes are wide and emotional. He seems almost afraid to speak, so Daryl does instead.
> 
> "It's a gift for you. I just...want you to know me as much as you can. You know I'm not much of a talker. Never have been. I've talked more with you than I ever have anyone else. Opened up more, too. But that don't mean you know everything, cuz there's just some shit I can't bring myself to say. It was like that when I was a kid, too." Paul is running his hands gently across Daryl's chest and looking earnestly with those too-big eyes. Still perched in his lap too, distracting little shit.
> 
> "At first, it started as doodling a little on the inside cover. But before I knew it, the book became like a journal. A place to talk. Never thought I'd see it again. Still don't know how it's possible. But it seems like I was meant to give it to you. I fuckin' never believed in fate. Stars aligning and all that shit. But somehow, I found this book. And somehow...I found you too."
> 
> And suddenly, Paul is kissing him, and Daryl knows that pouring love into a kiss is just an expression, but he's damn sure that's what Paul's doing right at this moment.
> 
> Daryl moans as Paul's tongue meets his, one hand tangles itself into Paul's long hair. With his other arm, he tightens his grip on Paul's waist, making the other man moan and grind down into his lap.
> 
> Something aches inside Daryl; he needs this man in every way and wants to give himself over however he can.
> 
> Suddenly desperate, Daryl runs his hands down Paul's neck and chest, his shoulders and arms. Paul rocks on top of him in response, his cock hardening inside his pants. It presses against Daryl's stomach as he makes use out of the friction between them. Paul's mouth opens wider and his kisses of love turn filthy and wet as he lets his hands wander the expanse of Daryl's body.
> 
> He yanks impatiently at Daryl's shirt and Daryl releases Paul's body momentarily to pull it off. He takes Paul's shirt off in turn and stands with Paul still in his arms, his knees creaking a little with age but still able to lift the other man and move them to the bedroom. Paul squawks a bit at being carried, but it doesn't stop him from wrapping his legs around Daryl's waist and trying to swallow his tongue. He spills Paul onto the bed and takes the rest of their clothing off.
> 
> Once free of pesky fabric, Paul's skin is his to spend time with. Daryl pulls him back into his lap, runs his fingers along his ass, his back. Every touch blazes through him as though he's being touched as well. Daryl feels like ice cream on a hot day, melting against Paul as they kiss and touch. He pulls back to look at the other man, and Paul's gaze makes hot arousal spike in him. Paul's eyes are wild and dark. His hair is a total mess and his lips are shiny.
> 
> _This is what I do to him_. Daryl is certain he likely looks just as wrecked. _This is what he does to me too_. He feels reverent, running his fingers through the ends of Paul's hair. The tight heat coils through Daryl as Paul rolls his hips against him, grinding their dicks together. He feels voracious, a man starved, needy in a way he didn't realize he was capable of. Until Paul. He wanted to open himself up and invite his own ruin.
> 
> And Paul seems to know. He pushes Daryl onto his back and pins him. He grabs a fistful of Daryl's hair and kisses him, biting and sucking and his mouth. He groans as Paul's hips roll against him, his cock a hard line against Daryl's own.
> 
> "I want you," he pants between kisses.
> 
> "What do you want?" Paul pants.
> 
> "I want you inside me." Paul groans and licks a stripe along his jaw. Daryl bucks upward helplessly. "Please, Paul, _please_." Oh, god, this should be humiliating instead of hot, begging to be mounted like a whore, but Daryl cannot help it. He wants it.
> 
> "Yeah, yes, whatever you want Daryl. Anything," Paul pants into his ear and the sound is a direct line to his dick. He nips his way along Daryl's throat and his hands begin to roam downward, making Daryl keen softly.
> 
> Paul lowers himself between Daryl's legs and locks eyes with him. "You ever do this before? I don't want to hurt you." Daryl usually appreciates Paul's caring nature, but right now, he just wants to be fucked.
> 
> "I use my fingers sometimes, and uh," Daryl flushes hotly. "Used to have a dildo." Paul groans in response and mutters something like "What I wouldn't give to see" before kissing the inside of Daryl's thigh. Paul puts his weight atop Daryl's thighs and teases his fingers against his perineum. Daryl arches his back and tries to thrust but damn if Paul doesn't have him good and pinned. He holds Daryl steady as he runs his finger around the rim.
> 
> Daryl wants it so badly. He has never had the desire to be filled the way his body is screaming for it now. The feeling is dizzying in its strength.
> 
> "Daryl, _God_." Paul's breath is damp against his balls.
> 
> "Take me. Fuck me," he begs breathlessly.
> 
> Paul crawls back up his body and pulls open the drawer on the bedside table, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. Daryl grinds against him and growls in frustration, his body hot and impatient, ready to wet his own fingers and put them inside himself if Paul didn't hurry the hell up. Paul laughs from above him. "We have all night, you know."
> 
> "Yeah, but I want you right now."
> 
> Paul bites his lip and puts the bottle of lube in Daryl's hand. "I want to watch you a little bit first." He sits back on his knees as Daryl pours the lube onto his fingers. He watches as Daryl reaches down between his legs with his hand full of slick. Paul's mouth hangs open and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. The sight of it has Daryl pushing himself down onto two of his fingers. It is a bit too much so quickly but Daryl welcomes the burn. He chokes out a noise as he opens himself, all the while relishing the sensation of Paul watching him. It feels like a physical touch, knowing Paul is there. He can hear Paul say something, but it's was hard to make it out over the sound of his own ragged breathing as his body loosens. Daryl's cock is beginning to leak against his stomach as his hips roll.
> 
> Then Paul is between his legs again, naked and warm. His body slides against Daryl's as he kisses him deeply. He reaches down and wraps a hand around Daryl's cock.
> 
> Daryl cries out and fucks into Paul's fist and shoves the hand still holding the bottle of lube at him. Paul circles his thumb around the head of Daryl's dick and Daryl feels himself clench around his own fingers, his body desperate for more. Paul lets go of his cock and Daryl whines, actually _whines_ at the loss but within moments he feels more lube pouring between his legs, beneath his balls and down his perineum, coating his fingers further.
> 
> Daryl spreads himself open more and Paul breathes out his name, his gaze falling between Daryl's legs. He needs Paul in him, around him, _fuck_. He feels gluttonous with it. Paul takes his dick in hand again spreading the precome gathered there. Daryl rocks between Paul's grip and his own fingers. Paul is babbling "yes" and "beautiful" and "Daryl" breathlessly. It's all too much. Daryl's going to come if he doesn't stop now. He removes his fingers from himself and places his other hand over Paul's to still it. They lock eyes. "Get inside me. _Now_."
> 
> "Hell, yes." Paul's hands come up to hold Daryl's jaw and he fucks his tongue into his mouth, settling between his legs, his cock bumping against Daryl's balls. "How do you want to-?" Paul says as he gestures between them. Daryl cannot say why, but the animal in him answers as he turns himself over into his hands and knees. Lovemaking can come later. Right now, he wants this: Paul behind him, over him, in him, _fucking_ him. 
> 
> Possessiveness and need, it rages through him furiously. He's never felt this way before in his life, but now it weighs on him undeniably. 
> 
> "Kiss me. Bite me." Paul does. He kisses Daryl's neck and back with hunger and teeth. He pulls Daryl's head back by his hair and bites at his neck, sucking marks into it. Daryl realizes with a physical thrill that they will be visible to everyone, and it makes him want to roar with caveman-like triumph. Paul runs his hands along Daryl's chest, back, ass, feeling the swell of the muscles there, his fingerprints leaving heat in their wake. Daryl feels the hard length of Paul as he rubs himself against the cleft of Daryl's ass. Daryl rocks backward with a moan, earning himself a needy noise from Paul, who is still nibbling into his skin possessively. He feels more than hears Paul rolling the condom on his cock and slicking himself up with a shaky breath. With one hand on Daryl's hip and the other on his shoulder, Paul lines himself up behind Daryl and slowly sinks into him.
> 
> "Fuck, Paul. _Fuck_!" Daryl arches his back as he feels Paul sink deeper inside him.
> 
> "Daryl." Paul says his name like a promise, like a prayer. "Yes, _yes_ ," he says as he sinks home and is finally flush with Daryl's body. Daryl feels the pleasure of being stretched, being filled and for a moment, it's everything he wants. And then he hears Paul make a whining noise behind him. He turns his head and is faced with the absolute ruin he's made the other man. He's panting, his face is red, his hair sticking to it in sweaty clumps. His hands trembling where they rest on Daryl's shoulder and hip.
> 
> That possessive wave surges through him once again. He lets his head fall and braces himself on his elbows. "Move," he grunts out.
> 
> And then Paul fucks him, his cock sliding through him like it was always meant to, the head grazing his prostate, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine and down to his balls. Daryl moans loudly, the sounds of himself filling the room, not caring if the whole damn Hilltop hears it. He wants them to. He wants them all to know who he belongs to. "Harder."
> 
> Daryl pushes himself backward to meet Paul's thrusts, each time feeling his cock pushing against his prostate.
> 
> "God, _damn_ , Daryl, _yes_." Paul's voice is little more than a breath, the litany of words pouring out of him with each thrust punching their way into his body.
> 
> _I'm the only one who can make him feel this way_ , Daryl thinks wildly. He sits up onto his knees a bit and reaches back, twisting his fingers into Paul's hair. Paul moves one hand from Daryl's shoulder to his chest and fucks into him, his rhythm starting to falter as he gets close. Paul's other hand comes around to grip his dick and Daryl moans so loudly he swears he can hear the walls shake.
> 
> " _Daryl_ ," Paul gasps, pressed flush to the back of him, getting the angle just right, narrowing Daryl's universe down to this point, his vocalizations now no more than gasps and whines and his thoughts scattered. _So good, so full, harder, right there, yes, fuck me, don't stop, I'm yours, I'm yours_. The bursts of pleasure are too much, he's trying to thrust backward and forward at once.
> 
> Daryl feels his cock suddenly thicken as he reaches the precipice. "Paul, ah, _ahh_!!" He pulses in Paul's hand, ejaculate painting the bed in thick ropes, his orgasm explosive, tearing through him like a hurricane, causing him to clench around Paul over and over in a rhythmic spasm. Daryl closes his eyes and lets the waves roll through him as behind him he can hear Paul crying out his name, the voice of a man lost to pleasure and need. Paul slams into him one last time and Daryl can feel the pulsing inside of him, welcome and satisfying. Paul is shaking as he comes, moaning softly, his voice weak with relief and ecstasy as the bliss churns through his shuddering body. They slowly come down together.
> 
> Paul allows himself to slip gently from Daryl before removing the condom and tossing it in a trash can near the bed. Paul collapses down next to him, gathering him in. Daryl rests his head in the crook of Paul's throat and throws an arm over his waist. They tangle their legs together as they enjoy the sated comfort of each other's arms.
> 
> Paul speaks first, his breathing still heavy from the exertion. "I don't have words for how amazing that was, so I'll just say I love you."
> 
> "Love you, too." Daryl feels like he hasn't slept in a year despite waking less than an hour ago. He yawns hugely and Paul giggles.
> 
> "Pretty sure we attracted a crowd with all that noise. Or at least _you_ did." Daryl pokes him in the side.
> 
> "Even if I was quiet, they ain't gonna miss the thirty hickeys on my neck." They laugh.
> 
> "No, probably not."
> 
> "When is the movie?" Daryl hears his own voice from what feels like far away, his words slurred and muted. 
> 
> "We've still got some time, I think." Paul runs his fingers along Daryl's shoulders. "Go to sleep for a bit."
> 
> Daryl doesn't answer, already drifting off. And this time, his sleep is dreamless.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will prob be stuff with TF again. They have a movie to watch after all! More than likely will be final chapter but I will revisit occasionally to update the series. I can’t leave the boys too long!


	16. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gathers for movie night. Conversation and introspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! Enjoy :)

"So, what's playing tonight?" Aaron asks playfully, his partner nibbling on his jaw as he speaks.

Daryl rolls his eyes good-naturedly as his and Paul's joined hands swing between them. "Dunno for sure," he fibs, hoping Paul doesn't pick up on the catch in his voice, before continuing honestly. "They try to change it up. They've been collecting DVDs for a couple of years now."

Paul squeezes Daryl's hand before chiming in. "What we watch boils down to availability and whose turn it is to choose the flick. It's anyone's guess tonight. I've got no clue who Maggie appointed this week."

And Daryl had made damn sure if that. He had gone out of his way to corner Maggie and beg her for the film choice as well as the vow of secrecy leading up to this evening.

"But it's great," Paul continues. "Barrington doesn't technically have a movie theater, but we do have a room with a lot of seats and a bit of a stage. One of the guys figured out how to hook up a projector so it'll play against the entire wall behind the stage. It's-" Paul's voice hitches a little and Daryl rubs his thumb on the back of Paul's hand in comforting circles. "It's almost like before."

"Weird, isn't it?" Eric pipes up. "I have those moments too, where I'm going about my day like normal, eating or showering or planning for something and then I suddenly remember. It seems ridiculous that you'd _forget_ an apocalypse, but in some moments, I do. Life goes on, you know?"

Paul nods enthusiastically. "I think I get those moments the most when I read or watch something connected with...before. Maybe it's nostalgia or something."

"Know what I can't wait for?" Aaron asks. "I can't wait for _new_ things again. The word is rebuilding itself. Along with that is going to come creativity- art and music and writing. Same as there was in the old world."

Paul agrees. "Yeah, that's one thing I'm really missing, too. Communities have finally gotten ahold of the basic survival stuff like food and shelter. I'm excited for the next stage."

Daryl snorts. The other three men look at him and he shrugs. "Just thought of Jerry holding a Karaoke night, that's all."

They all laugh, agreeing that if they are to get the chance, they definitely want to see Jerry perform. No doubt there would be some Bon Jovi on the playlist if that were the case.

They walk into Barrington behind Carol and Ezekiel, who are so wrapped up in one another the rest of the world may as well not exist. Smiles light up their faces as the essentially grope at one another joyfully. Eric clears his threat subtly and gets a look of death from Carol. He backs himself behind Aaron and laughs awkwardly.

"Take it easy, Queenie. We're just trying to get by," Daryl says good-naturedly.

Carol softens and tosses a smug smile at him and Paul. Daryl realizes he is going to have to accept that it’s going to be a regular thing from now on. At least she and Ezekiel slide out of the way, lips locked and bodies wrapped around one another.

"Okay, we are _not_ sitting next to them," Paul's voice speaks softly in his ear. "They're like a couple of teenagers."

Daryl hums and lifts Paul into his arms. The other man actually squeaks a little as Daryl begins kissing his neck. "And what are we, geriatrics?" Paul giggles and pushes Daryl back slightly, shyly mumbling "Of course not" but flushing a bright red. _Mission accomplished, then._

Everyone gathers in the room and settles into seats and on the floor. The nerves hit Daryl's belly once again. He knows Paul will be incredibly happy with Daryl's choice, but there is still a whole room of expectant people to please as well.

A hush falls over the room as the projector fires up. And moments later Gene Kelley, Debbie Reynolds, and Donald O'Connor lights up their screen, wearing slickers and carrying umbrellas.

Daryl _feels_ Paul freeze beside him and hears the soft gasp he lets out. He risks a glance over and sees Paul’s eyes, bulging comically in shock as an enormous smile breaks out on his face.

_I’m singin’ in the rain_   
_Just singin’ in the rain_   
_What a glorious feelin’  
I’m happy again..._

As the three actors sing and dance out the movie’s opening, Daryl looks around the room and notices that everyone else looks pleased with the choice as well. Except maybe Carl, who looks more perplexed than anything else. Daryl’s not sure the kid has ever even seen a musical before, and he seems more interested in Enid than the events on the screen.

He feels a squeeze on his arm. Paul is looking at him in amazement. “Did you do this?”

Daryl nods. “Knew it was your favorite. Sorry it took so long to find. I ended up hitting a house on a run a couple weeks ago and the people there had a whole bunch of old classics. Musicals and Hitchcock and even a couple Charlie Chaplin silent ones. I took them all and made Maggie hide them.”

Paul’s attention has been brought back to the film by then, smiling goofily at Kelley’s charming smile. Daryl can imagine a younger Paul, questioning his sexuality and watching this film for the first time and falling head over heels for the main actor, which is what Paul told him had happened. He really was a very handsome man.

Paul leans toward him, never taking his eyes off the screen and whispers, “I love you so fucking much.”

Daryl kisses his cheek and puts an arm around his waist in response.

They sit there, all the communities together, eyes glued to the film. They laugh and whoop together. Some sing along to the songs. Rick and Michonne get up and slow dance when Don and Kathy have their serenade. Daryl is once again struck by how it feels like _before_. And it’s not, he knows it’s not, but it’s again. It’s a future. They’re together now after everything they’ve been through over the past couple of years. They’ve fought their battles, they’ve lost so much but gained so much at the same time. The feelings they have for each other run so deep, so intense. He’d lay down his life for any person in this room right now. The irony doesn’t miss Daryl that he wouldn’t know any of them if the world hadn’t ended, and now they’re building a new world and making a happy future a reality in the present.

They sit in the soft glow of the room and bask in the love and comfort surrounding them, holding one another close as Gene Kelley cheerfully stomps in puddles and sings about love.

“Now and forever,” Paul says in his ear.

Daryl kisses him softly. He doesn’t know how long things will be safe and when their next challenge will inevitably come, but he knows he and Paul will meet it together.

“Now and forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has come along on this journey with me. It’s taken me so long to get out this last chapter (and it’s not even a long one haha) because I knew it was where I wanted to conclude things and I hate saying goodbye. I appreciate every kudos and comment I’ve received and I hope this story has touched you as much as it touched me writing it. 
> 
> I will say that it may not be the end of this story as I’m considering making a series of one-shots revisiting our boys going forward!
> 
> Once again, thank you to everyone for being so supportive. I love you all and I’m so glad we share the love for the good ship desus. <3
> 
> Peace and Love.


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